Switch
by Maya Perez
Summary: AU story - picks up at the flashback from "I Know What You Did Last Summer" - What if the new Crossroads Demon granted Sam's request for a deal? **Contains Season 4 spoilers.**
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Dean gritted his teeth and swallowed a scream. Pain raced up his side from Alistair's latest incision, the scent of fresh spilled blood coiling around him. He _would not give_ the bastard the satisfaction. Not as long as he could hold out. And he would hold out. His daily growing anger and hate at the demon would see to it.

How long had he been in Hell? Two? Three years? Time had little meaning here and he heard it didn't run like elsewhere to boot. There was no telling how many hours he'd already spent strapped to the rack on his stomach, his tormentor deciding to spice things up by trying something different.

But he must endure. It was all he had left. And a burning need for vengeance. If he couldn't hold out against the agony, then he would do so against Alistair's daily temptation. Because the moment he gave in, he would be lost. And damn if he would go there, damn if he would ever willingly become one of the things that killed his mother, his father, even him. One of the things which might have also killed Sammy.

He closed his eyes and fought back the thought and tears, the despair nipping at his heels. Sam was alive, he _had to be_. No other answer was allowed. So what if his little brother had been left alone with Lilith, the nastiest demon around since YED? This was his _brother_ he was talking about, the one he'd sacrificed his soul for, that he was suffering all this for. If there was a God out there somewhere, surely he wouldn't have let his brother die, not after everything they'd been through -- after all the things which had been sacrificed.

His best indication that Sammy was still breathing was that the demons hadn't paraded the fact of his death to his face. He was sure they would have gloated about it from the moment Dean got there if Sam had. They'd tell him how he'd sold his soul for nothing -- his brother brought back to life then dead again in a mere year and Dean's soul forfeit for eternity.

So Sam was out there fighting the good fight. He _must_ be. Someone had to be out there messing up these sons of bitches' plans. And that thought alone gave him tons of comfort. Anything to ruin the bastards' day.

The hard slap caught him unawares. Sharp claws and scales scraped over his skin adding to the blow. He opened his eyes only to find the wide cavern spinning, he'd been hit so hard. His cheek throbbed in complaint, another ache to add to the day's tally.

"You need to pay attention, Dean." Alistair's fetid breath of rotted flesh and sulfur washed over his face making him gag. The voice sounded like rocks grinding against each other though the words were strung together with a sing-song cadence.

"It's not polite to daydream when someone's talking to you." A scaly hand patted at his scratched cheek sending fresh twinges of irritation down his nerve endings. "I'm trying to teach you something important here."

That it was true scared Dean almost as much as just being in Hell itself. This weird interest Alistair had regarding him, torturing him personally though he was some big important demon mucky-muck. But Alastair wasn't just torturing him, no, every move came with a lecture, with comparisons of methods, visual graphics, hands on teaching at its finest. But why? What the hell for?

Something was going on, something Dean didn't understand or was able to put his finger on. But it gave him that much more of a reason not to give in.

"One more millimeter in, just between these layers here, and the pain increases in an unbelievable sweet crescendo like so."

Agony rolled up Dean's nerves from his exposed backside, his brain catching on fire, all thought all everything blowing apart as if they'd never been. His body spasmed in reaction jerking him against the barbed restraints. He would have screamed this time, done anything for any kind of relief, for making it stop, but it was so intense even that was denied him.

Then just as abruptly it was gone. All of it. He suddenly felt free, grabbed and pulled as if launched from a sling, rising upwards towards the dark cavern's ceiling at tremendous, unbelievable speed, Alistair's shocked displeasure thundering behind him.

Dean mentally blinked and then wasn't where he'd been but was somewhere else. His vision went sideways, his stomach the opposite direction. His senses were drenched with the stench of whiskey, fear, blood, wild grass and weeds of all things. He half slumped forwards, totally disoriented, and caught himself on something wooden.

His mind felt like mush, his muscles not much better. He knew this feeling – had in fact experienced it many times before. There was alcohol running through his veins, a lot of it. But how?

A gentle breeze caressed his skin and he realized it was cool, not the humid penetrating heat with which he'd become so familiar. A heavier, more shocking thought came with that realization. Was this not Hell? Was he, somehow, free? His mind reeled – the concept almost alien.

"Welcome back to the world of the living…Dean Winchester." A light snort followed the words.

Dean didn't recognize the voice. He fought to rally himself, to find out what the heck was going on. His hands were holding onto something, so he kept his grip as he commanded his legs to stiffen, his knees to lock, then stood up straight. Hair fell into his eyes but he didn't trust himself enough at the moment to try to move it away. How had it gotten so long anyway? Yet hadn't he heard somewhere that hair and fingernails continued to grow even after you were dead?

But somehow he was alive, free! A shot of elation rang through him, but didn't last long.

He felt off. He felt _wrong_. And it wasn't just the alcohol. But he didn't have any time for that now. Someone was here with him. Someone who seemed to know who he was and maybe would be able to tell him what the hell had just happened. He tried to focus in on his surroundings.

The wood thing he was leaning on turned out to be a giant spindle. His hands were curled around the demon killing knife and it was embedded into the wood, right through some dilapidated, weekend bender yuppie's hand. But said yuppie was grinning at him with mad sadistic glee for some reason. It sent cold shivers down Dean's back. Whatever had just happened, he was suddenly dead sure he wasn't going to like it. Not one bit.

"Who are you?"

That was wrong. His voice was off. The pitch was too high. WTF?

They were outside. Looked like the middle of freakin' nowhere even. A boarded up old gas station was off to his front and right. It was night time, the stars and the moon shining in a surprisingly cloudless sky. More light came from a daisy looking streetlamp farther back at the edge of the lot. Aside from the two of them, the place looked to be deserted.

Dean felt his chest constrict, his mind balking at what he already knew. He was topside. He was out of Hell. Except…it shouldn't have been possible.

The cold shivers spread into his gut. He was growing more certain by the moment that he wasn't going to like this at all.

"Oh, I think if you put some thought into it, you can figure out who I am." The balding guy blinked and his brown eyes covered over with swirling red.

Dean felt his face and body go numb. Yeah, he knew who this bastard was alright. "You didn't do it. Tell me you didn't make a deal."

The gleeful eyes grew brighter. "Oh yes, I did indeed. He was quite desperate, your brother."

"No!" Dean leaned forward with his denial, his weight driving the knife deeper into the wood and scrunching the inside of the demon's hand.

Sammy had promised. He'd promised to break the chain.

The demon grimaced in pain for a moment but then smiled. It wasn't a kind smile, far from it. "Wait, it gets better."

Dean didn't want it to get _better_. "No, it doesn't. Break the deal. Put me back!" Fear and horror raked at him, the mere thought of Sam being down there, of being tied to the rack, of having the things done to him that Dean had been put through again and again plunging him into despair. He thought he might throw up.

All he'd ever wanted was to protect his brother. To give Sammy a chance at living, maybe by some miracle even being happy. But not this. Never this.

"I don't think so, Dean."

"You fucking son of bitch!" Dean shifted the knife toward him driving it further into the demon's pinned hand. "Don't argue, just do it!"

The demon's face contorted as golden sparks flew from his cut flesh into the air. Yet his gaze never left his, the eyes shining with righteous amusement.

"No." He leaned ever so slightly forward. "Don't you get it? It's so much _better_ this way." He smiled again as if he could taste Dean's oozing and growing panic. "You've had a taste of what it's like to be down there, a good long taste. So I thought how utterly delicious would it be to bring you back like little Sammy wanted, knowing that you'd know exactly what your brother would then be going through instead of you. No doubts…only certainty. And there'd be not a damn thing you could do about it." The smile grew but it was as if a desiccated skull were grinning at him. "Either one of your righteous souls would work for what we have in mind. And Sam's already half broken. How long could he possibly last that way?"

Rage filled Dean. It swept through his insides like a prairie fire, burning away his fear, his terror, leaving nothing but a rising tide of hate. "If you won't undo this, then I guess I don't need you anymore, do I?"

Not waiting for an answer, he yanked the knife out of the wood and in the same movement jabbed it towards the demon's neck. His aim was slightly off, though it shouldn't have been, and instead of plunging deep into the demon's throat it took him at the jaw. Twisting the knife though got it to cut right through the jugular sending blood and golden sparks spraying everywhere.

Dean slammed his free hand on the guy's arm before he could fall or pull back and thrust at him again. This time his aim was true. Cold steel broke through flesh and bone and out the other side.

He yanked the knife back out and didn't even look as the demon fell twitching to the ground dead.

This was screwed. This was royally screwed! Why the hell had Sam done this? Was he freakin' mental? "_You stupid fuck_!"

He smacked the pummel of the knife against the wooden spindle the sound echoing into the night around him. He did it over and over and over again until his hand and arm grew numb. He tried hard to hold onto his anger, fearing to face the horror of what had been done. The chain was supposed to be broken, dammit! He wasn't _worth_ this!

Dean turned away from the spindle, from the gas station, from the body, from all that was his first sight after being lifted from Hell. Not paying attention to what he was doing, he swiped the bloodied knife against his jeans and continued holding onto it in a white knuckled grip.

With the light of the moon and stars, he made out the crossroads before him and beyond it the Impala. But where was Sam's body? What had the demon done with it? No way was he going to leave it out here to be eaten by scavengers or worse. He had to find Sam!

Dean staggered toward the car sure he could find a flashlight or two in the trunk. His legs felt off. Everything about him felt gangly and uncoordinated. Yeah there was booze clogging his arteries to heck and back, but he knew what that felt like and this had nothing to do with it, or at least not entirely. There was some bad mojo going on. His body had been in bad shape when he left it, so sure there' be some problems, but what else had Sammy done?

"Hey, Baby. Long time no see." Dean ran a hand over the Impala's black hood in a gentle caress. "Did Sammy treat you okay?"

As he reached for the door handle he stared at his hand for a moment wondering if his fingers had always seemed so long before. He also noticed his ring was missing. Half frowning, he looked up and caught his reflection on the window, the moon looking down on him from behind.

Dean froze, his eyes widening as he stared. Cold shivers washed in waves down his whole body. He blinked several times to make sure what he was seeing was right. He knew that image, but…

That wasn't his face. Those weren't his clothes. This wasn't his body.

It was Sam's…

But that was impossible.

Dean staggered back away from the face staring back at him, one he knew so well but wasn't his. No. This was a mistake, a big freaking mistake! How the hell had it happened?

His muscles suddenly turned to rubber and he fell on his ass, no, on _Sam's_ ass, on the pebble strewn road.

He knew his body had been torn a new one, but, but to find himself inside his brother's? Goosebumps covered him from head to toe the idea alien and beyond bizarre. This kind of stuff only happened in cheap sci-fi movies. This was Real Life! This type of thing wasn't supposed to happen here!

He touched his face, Sam's face, stared at his hands, Sam's hands, his arms, Sam's arms, his legs, Sam's legs, growing more nauseated by the moment as it was pounded into him over and over again that this body wasn't his.

"Fuck me…"

This was insane. Maybe he was still in Hell. Maybe this was some kind of psychological rather than physical torture cooked up by Alistair. But what would be the point? Aside from the utter glee of watching his ass freak out that is? But it wasn't like the demon ever needed a reason.

The air was fresh and real though. That was the moon and a genuine night's sky up there. That had been a bona fide demon he killed but a minute before. And this really was his brother's body.

Sam had traded places with him in more ways than one. And Dean was sure, deep in his soul of souls that just like this crossroads demon, none would deal with him for yet another switch. Sammy was gone and there wasn't a damn thing Dean could do about it.

After all he'd done. After all he went through. He'd ended up putting his brother in the last place he ever wanted him to be – rotting and being tortured in Hell.

Forever.

"_SAM!_"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Who's the Sasquatch now, huh? Guess the joke's on you, eh, Dean?_

_You were supposed to keep him safe. That was your _job_!_

Dean was halfway to his – Sam's, oh God, they were Sam's – feet when his guts twisted hard inside and dumped him onto his hands and knees in the moist dirt and rocks. (Not his, never his – Sam's! They were Sam's!) He felt lightheaded and feverish, almost as if he'd been poisoned, but he knew it was all his own doing.

He couldn't just lie there though. He had to do something, anything, find some way to fix this. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be!

Dean could feel the ground's moisture soaking up into his knees, the points of the rocks scraping against his palms, but they weren't his – they weren't _his_! He didn't want Sam's body, he didn't want his brother's life. Everything he had ever done was to keep Sammy safe. To see him be happy. Alive. Not to have him be turned into a freaking demon down in Hell. How did things get so fucked up?

_And what was he supposed to do_ _about it?_

If he'd ever even suspected this was how things would turn out, he would have left Sam dead over a year ago. At least his spirit would have been somewhere better than it was now, even if he had to do without him. But no… He'd made a deal, he'd brought Sam back because he couldn't stand the thought of doing without him, of having failed him. And look where the heck it'd gotten them.

Dean tried to get up again and this time he was able to manage it. The engraved metal of the demon killing knife gleamed at him from the ground where he'd dropped it. He picked it up, almost falling over in the effort and slipped it into the sheath he knew Sam wore at the small of his back. He half stumbled half shuffled to the Impala, making sure to keep his gaze averted from the glass over the door or the reflective metal beneath. The car welcomed him with its usual hinged squeal, the leather bench seat folding around him as he settled before the steering wheel.

But even as the old familiar smells of sweat, stale food, and leather folded around him, he felt off. The seat was farther back than he usually had it, slightly skewing the angles of things. He sat taller in the seat, the familiar vista over Baby's hood out the front windshield screaming of wrongness.

He accidentally glanced into the rearview mirror and saw red rimmed hazel eyes staring back at him. Eyes the same color as his but not his. He slapped the mirror away anger rising at himself, at his father, at his brother, at the stupid acts of fate that had brought him to this impasse. This was so _wrong_.

He pawed at the ignition but it was empty. He flicked on the overhead light, blinking rapidly as the illumination flooded the inside of the car. Dean patted the pockets of the jeans then the hoodie he realized he was wearing. He pulled whatever he could find out of them but wasn't rewarded with much – an empty money clip, a cell phone, some change, a maroon matchbook that matched the color of the plastic diamond hanging off a lone key, and finally the Impala's keys.

The matchbook was for a place called the Purple Ritz in Great Falls, Montana. He'd never heard of it.

But it was as good a place to go as any at this point. Maybe there'd be answers there. Assuming Montana was where he was. It was a long way from the last place Dean had been at topside -- Indiana. But then, he also had no idea how bloody long he'd been gone.

Why the hell hadn't Sam _listened_ to him?

He vacillated between fury at his brother and fear for him, shivering where he sat and not from the coolness of the night. Right now Sam was where he'd been – in Hell, at Alastair's mercy. And that demon had none. Instead he'd be welcoming Sam to his new home -- telling him of the honor being bestowed upon him by getting the demon's undivided attention. And what good friends they were going to be. Such close, good friends…

Dean bit the inside of his cheek until he drew blood.

He had to get Sam _out_. There was nothing else to it. He shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. Baby's engine rumbled in agreement. Dean turned the car around, stomping on the gas and sent rocks and dirt flying in every direction.

A paper sack smacked into his side on the bench seat. Without looking, Dean reached down for it and came up with a half empty bottle of whiskey. His mouth puckered at the thought of a long sip, his throat feeling suddenly dry. But he knew what lay down that road. And he couldn't afford it right then. Sam had been doing plenty of drinking before the switch; he didn't need to add to it. What he needed to do was think.

And rest and eat and sleep. But more importantly get Sammy the heck out of Hell.

He tossed the bottle to the back seat.

He didn't know what his brother had been doing with his time, but it hadn't left him in good shape. His arms hurt, hell, his whole body hurt. He smelled of sweat, alcohol, and fear. His stomach was an empty pit. And that one quick glance in the rearview had shown him a beat, end of his rope, Sammy. He didn't think he'd seen his brother look that wiped out before, ever.

_Dammit, Sam, you were supposed to have moved on. To have gotten on with business! Keeping yourself alive and in one piece. Not wasting your time trying to find a way to get me back_! His brother had had a full year to get used to him being gone. Not like when Sam had been stolen so abruptly from him by Jake's knife, just after he'd finally found his brother again after he'd been missing for days, kidnapped by a demon. What the heck had it all been for?

The headlight draped road blurred in front of him, warm streaks flowing over his cheeks.

No! Not doing that. Got no time for _that_! He blinked quickly roughly wiping at his face and nose with the hoodie's gray sleeve. He found the cloth had dried traces of another, earlier episode -- one he'd not been involved in. Dean found it suddenly hard to breathe, his chest in a vise. Sam should have just left things alone!

The road eventually got a name – Highwood. Dean followed it a long way, little sign of civilization anywhere aside from large plowed fields on either side. The road finally dead ended into 10th Avenue, which also passed for routes 89 and 87. Road signs told him he was indeed in Montana, just a short way away from Great Falls.

The Purple Ritz ended up being in the seedier side of town. Dean parked the Impala in an empty parking slot and just sat there. His hands sweated as they kept hanging onto the steering wheel though the car was off. He felt a steady sense of rising dread but couldn't place it.

This was just a motel. There shouldn't be any reason for him to be feeling like this. Yet there it was. He found his gaze jumping about the parking lot trying to peer into shadows.

More than likely it was the beginnings of Post Traumatic Stress – he'd seen plenty of people go through it enough times in their line of work. But knowing what it was and doing something about it were two different things. And he had more important matters to attend to.

This motel, it was probably the last place his brother had been to before making his deal. Heck, the Winchester's could now enter the Guinness Book of World Records. Surely no other family in history had made three straight deals with demons. And if by some fluke there were such people, surely they didn't do it inside three years. He'd bet a fortune on it. Nobody else would be this stupid…

Maybe Sam had left him a note or letter inside. But he didn't want to see it… Did he? He didn't want to know what weirdness had led his brother to throw his life away, not after everything Dean had done to save it. _Damn ingrate_.

"Are you happy now, Sammy? Getting to twist in Hell under Alistair's knife instead of me?"

His fingers twisted up around the steering wheel until they were numb. The muscle at his jaw throbbed he was clenching his teeth so hard.

"Was this really what you thought I'd want? _You freaking selfish prick_?"

Dean rocked violently back and forth in the confined space, pushing and pulling against the steering wheel, a throaty growl filling the space.

"This was never what I wanted, damn you! _Why do you and dad keep doing these things to me?_" His scream fractured at the end. Only the sound of far off car horns and cats fighting in a nearby alley answered him.

He'd so had his fill of this shit. And body swapping, Sammy? Dude…

Dean leaned his forehead against the door's glass window, letting its cool touch flow into him. Muscles cramped and cried in protest at this latest abuse, but he just grimaced and paid them no mind. This pain was nothing. Nothing compared to what he'd suffered before. He closed his eyes for a moment, just feeling his lungs (Sammy's lungs, stupid, Sammy's!) draw air in and out, reminding himself that while there was life, there was hope. And that Winchesters always went out fighting. Somehow he'd find a way to get his brother back.

And the best way to get started in doing that was to get out of the car. So he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The smell of asphalt and exhaust rising around him in the parking lot was a welcome change. Dean stood there a moment letting the weight of the small city settle in around him. It was different from Hell, different from the dead gas station. He needed to remind himself Alistair wouldn't be jumping out of the shadows to cut him at any moment.

He needed cash and with any luck Sam had stashed a little away somewhere in the motel room. His wallet and money clip had been empty. If not, he'd check Baby's trunk. He thought he'd hid a hundred in there somewhere, but it'd been a while ago so he couldn't remember if it was still there. Never hurt to have something to fall back on in a pinch. And this was a pinch if there'd ever been one.

He stared at the Purple Ritz as he slowly approached the front door. It was an old brick two story building. Looked like something left over from better times, long long ago. For no reason whatsoever, he found himself wondering why his brother had picked this place rather than several probably more comfortable others Dean had spotted on the way in.

He walked past the front desk never even bothering to glance at the person manning it and headed down some steps to the hall in back, that part of the building looking slightly better maintained than the entry. It made him hold some hope for the room itself.

Gloom covered the hallways, light streaming through from the shade covered windows from the street. The bulbs above had either burned out and never been replaced or broken on purpose. It probably had nothing to do with him, but Dean slowed down just a tad anyway. He changed his gait to make his walk silent, though he almost tripped not used to the length of Sam's dangly legs and his big feet. They'd given him more than enough trouble driving Baby once he hit town.

Senses primed, PTSDs or not, he reached the door to the room labeled on the room key. Though he sensed nothing unusual, there was still a tingle of something on the back of his neck. He usually trusted his instincts one hundred percent, but what he wasn't sure about was how such things translated when you were no longer exactly in your own body. And Sammy's wasn't exactly normal to boot, not after Azazel got done with it.

He stuck the key in the lock and turned it then waited a moment before pushing it open. The door swung into a dark room, a thin sliver of light pouring in from a high wire meshed window and a cabinet light in the room's wall pressed kitchenette. Both really only helped to deepen the room's already dark shadows than actually show him anything.

Dean stepped in just enough to close the door and reached to his right hoping for a light switch. Before he found it, someone grabbed his left arm and yanked him toward the left wall. Dean twisted enough to hit it from the side rather than face on. He barely dodged a fist looking for his face, the remaining alcohol in his system and the fact this wasn't his body both fighting against him.

Not having time to play nice, he ducked to the floor and swept out one of Sam's long legs to trip the hulking form before him. Caught off guard, the heavy man went down. Dean never hesitated – he just pulled the demon killing knife from the small of his back and plunged it into the man's chest. The sudden flare of golden light and sparks told him he'd guessed correctly – this was a demon. There was no one else who'd go through this much trouble to track them down and not even bother to say 'howdy'.

And it made him angry. If the crossroads demon hadn't dealt, if it'd told Sam where to stick it, he was sure the rest of the whiskey he found in the Impala would have found its way into his brother's gullet. Sam would have been at this damn demon's mercy, too drunk to fight back, if he hadn't crashed Baby into a ditch and gotten stuck on the way back first.

"Well that was way easier than I expected."

Dean glanced up at the pleased female voice. A tall woman with straight, dark blonde hair came out of the shadows from the right by the kitchenette.

"Stop right there." He yanked the blade out of the bleeding corpse at his feet and stood up. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do to you what I just did to your buddy."

"That's no friend of mine." She didn't even bother to glance at the body. "He was my keeper. He was supposed to make sure I did what I promised. And if not…" She ran a thumb slowly across her own throat.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." He darted some glances behind her and around the rest of the room wondering if there was anyone else hiding in there.

"We need to get out of here, Sam." She took a half step toward him, her expression earnest. "They'll know my guard dog is dead and send others looking for us. Lilith wants you in a really bad way."

Guess the info about the soul swap hadn't made it down the grapevine yet. It also hacked him off how this woman kept acting as if she knew him. There was a familiarity in her tone he just didn't like. "Who the hell are you?"

She looked shocked and slightly offended at the question. "I thought it'd be obvious. Ruby. Hello? Or are there other demons you're on a first name basis with?"

Ruby…

Dean went hot and cold all over, his hand tightening on the knife's hilt. It made sense how they'd found Sam now. It'd been her witch bags that had kept them off of Lilith's radar before, so of course Ruby would know how to counter them. At least it was a better thought than that his brother just quit caring and threw his away.

"Come on, Sam. Enough of this. We _really_ need to go."

Dean snorted. "Don't think so, princess. You may have helped us out in Indiana, but that still doesn't make me stupid enough to go anywhere with you. So take a hike." He half turned away from her, searching the back of the room in the dim light, opening and closing drawers, looking for anything belonging to his brother.

"Are you on drugs or something?" She stared at him, hands on hips. "This isn't the time to become suicidal, Sam."

The desperation beneath the bossy tone was new for her, not that he cared - skank. Dean brushed past her to take a look around the kitchenette area. He'd not found anything so far. Though he was sure Ruby's urgency was real, he wasn't so positive as to how it might apply now. Sam was the one with the weirdo psychic powers, not him. So Lilith had nothing to worry about. Right?

There were empty beer bottles on the counter, a couple of personal sized pizza boxes, and even a mostly eaten Nighthawk in the trashcan but nothing else. "Did you and your bud take anything when you broke in here?"

"What?"

"You heard me, bitch, so just answer the friggin' question!" Dean turned around almost tripping over his larger feet. This was so going to take some getting used to. Not that he planned to. There had to be a way to fix this. All he had to do was find it.

Her grey eyes were wide on her face. Then they lit up with pretty much the same emotion feeding Dean's veins at the moment. "Where do you get off talking to me like that? I literally went through the ugliest depths of Hell to get here to help you and this is what I get? You've no idea the things I had to do and go through to convince Lilith I was sincere about killing you for her. You shouldn't be treating me like this. This is more something your dead brother would do."

Maybe it was time he set the bitch straight. "No, actually, you don't have it right at all. You see, while you were off making kissy face with Lilith, my idiotic stupid _younger_ brother was out finding himself a crossroads demon who would deal. So as of less than a couple of hours ago, Sam traded his stinking soul for mine." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Sorry you didn't get the memo."

He must admit he rather enjoyed watching Ruby's new face go through several permutations of surprise, horror, and shock as his words started to connect in her demonic brain.

"He did _what_?"

"My feelings exactly." Taking one last look around the room, Dean turned around and went for the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Dean, wait!"

He ignored Ruby, leaving her to stay or go as she wished. With the demons knowing about this place, he couldn't really take the chance Lilith might get it into her head to get rid of him before he'd found a way to get Sam out of the pit just to make sure no weirdo powers were ever brought back into the mix.

Much to his chagrin he heard footsteps hurrying up behind him.

"I said wait!" She grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.

Dean brought up the knife and held it threateningly between them. "You're not the boss of me. And unless you have a way to bring Sam back, we've got nothing to talk about."

He watched her face minutely change expressions as if she were going through things to say in her mind and discarding them one after the other. There was nothing she could say he'd be interested in -- nothing. Her face collapsed only moments later as if she too realized this.

"No, you're right, I can't bring him back. But you've got his body now. You can learn to use it, all of it."

"Are you freakin' kidding me?" He wanted to throttle her right there and then. "Not once was I for Sammy using his weirdo powers. Ever! Why the heck would you think _I'd_ do it?" He turned away from her and started off down the hall again. "And it wouldn't work anyway. He was the one with the psychic stuff, not me."

"Are you just being dense to piss me off or are you just that stupid? The power is in Sam's body, his _DNA_, not his soul. That's what got changed by Azazel's blood. And it's yours now. You could learn to use it. Defeat Lilith with it!"

Dean turned on her his previously pent up rage welling up like a tidal wave at her words. Before he knew it, he had smashed her back against the nearest wall, the demon killing knife pressed up against her throat. "I don't aim to keep it! _You got that_? And there's other ways to get rid of that bitch. This knife for one. So I don't need to be mucking about making Sam more of a freak than he already is."

He could see the fear shining in her eyes; he could almost taste it in the air. It'd be so easy to rid the world of her, to destroy another manipulative, useless demon. And he was tempted, oh so very tempted. But he owed her. When the chips were down, despite whatever agenda she really had going, she'd backed them up. Though he knew Lilith made Ruby shit her pants, she showed up in Indiana anyway and came in with them for the big showdown.

Plus he understood her fear, her helplessness. It had been one of his constant companions downstairs. And one meatsuit had already paid the price for housing her. He didn't want another on his conscience. This one was definitely hot and fully loaded and deserved to live. Besides, he didn't have time for this crap. He needed to find a way to free Sam.

Though it fought against him, Dean pushed his anger down. He was only too aware of what Sammy was going through right that minute, and needing to do something about it was his number one priority.

"You've helped us out, so I won't kill you…this time. But I don't deal with things that steal other people's lives or bodies so I'd better not see your face again anytime soon or I might be unable to resist ridding the world of another pestering problem. You got me?" He got his face in real close and stared daggers at her, making sure she had no doubt whatsoever that he meant this to the bottom of his soul.

He didn't wait for a response but jerked away from her and started down the hall again at an even faster pace. With her mouth, he wasn't sure he'd be able to control himself if she started pushing. It was more than definitely time to go.

Not bothering to turn in the key since a body was sitting in the room, Dean ignored the front desk again and went out the front door.

Baby was sitting right where he'd left her. He opened the door and slipped inside, hating the the off feel of it, almost as if he didn't belong inside her anymore. The engine rumbled to life and he backed up with a squeal of tires and then another as he stomped on the gas and jumped out into the street.

Taking a quick glimpse in the rearview, he saw Ruby staring after him from the parking lot. So long, bitch! He gave her the finger for good measure, though he was pretty sure she couldn't see it. Sometimes it was just the doing of a thing, whether anyone knew about it or not. Kind of like their jobs all these years – saving people, killing things, and most of the world none the wiser.

He drove out of Great Falls and headed south toward I-90. It was time to find out what Bobby knew.

Dean stopped at Billings a little over three hours later to check the trunk and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he found the money stash he'd hoped for. The town was just coming alive so he was able to buy water and food to hydrate and recharge. Baby was also going through the gas pretty quickly, especially at the speeds he was pushing her, so they both got to eat and take a breather.

Food…Man, how he'd missed food! With bodies that weren't real and regenerating every day, this simplest of pleasures was totally denied them in the underworld. He grabbed some prefab chili cheese dogs, several Milky Ways, and a Hershey's bar or two. And bottled water, cold bottled water.

A newspaper at the counter told him he'd only been gone from his mortal coil for ten days. It was like a slap in the face. Only ten days! He could have sworn it'd been three years if not more. It probably had been. He again vaguely recalled Alistair mentioning that time didn't run the same up here as it did down there. It also meant every hour he took to do whatever it was he was going to do was about five days Sam would be under the knife. He had to hurry this along as much as possible.

Sam had already been under Alistair's tender mercies for what, over eleven days? Eleven days of screaming and anguish and terror. Of hearing before hand every last detail of what was about to be inflicted on him. Of Alistair laughing in his face, asking him that horrid question at the end of each day. Horror and recollection made Dean dizzy just thinking about it. He couldn't torment himself like this though, it wouldn't do Sammy any good. Results were what was needed. He microwaved his food and shoved it down his gullet. He got back on the road as fast as he could.

The cell phone was working, he'd checked, but he didn't dare use it. Bobby would hear Sam on the line and not him and things were going to be hard enough to explain as it was. This needed to be done face to face. He just wished it wasn't so far to get there.

It felt like one of the longest drives ever.

Still, when he rolled the window down and the wind blew past his face, when he watched the sun continue to rise in front of him spreading color all over the place, unimagined amounts of pleasure rolled through him. To be here, to be alive – it felt _good_.

Then he remembered how he got there. What Sam had done to yank him out of perdition. The dreadful things his brother was going through on his behalf. Guilt and bitterness welled up like a fount and gnawed at his soul. This was ten times worse than what he felt when he figured out his father traded his life for his. Back then, for a while, he'd not been sure, he'd not truly known. And there'd been other issues to deal with, like his father's final commands. At least back then Dean hadn't known he lay dying, he'd been totally ignorant of his predicament or what his father had decided to do about it. But this time… This time he'd specifically asked Sam to NOT DO THIS! Dean had had his life given back to him twice before this, and no one deserved more than that – no one! Especially not him. And even more so if it was at the cost of someone else, particularly Sammy.

Heat roiled in his gut, loathing Azazel for ever putting them on this path, for his kind's continued interference with his family, for letting them keep trading each others' souls, but most of all for what they were putting Sam through that very minute.

He would fix this. Had to fix this. He had no idea how, but he must find a way. And he knew Alistairs' name -- that had to count for something. Wasn't having a demon's name their weak point? Wizards had been summoning the things back since before medieval times, right? Bobby would know if they could pull it off. Bobby might very well be the key to everything.

His foot pressed down harder on the accelerator. He'd be damned if he couldn't cut at least two hours of this nine hour plus drive. Though Sam's body was tired and worn, sugar and NoDoz would make sure he stayed awake long enough to get there. He could rest later. Sam needed out _now_.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dean felt a jolt of energy cut through him as he laid eyes on the old and fading Singer Salvage Yard sign. Never had weeds and junked up cars ever looked so sweet.

He parked the Impala and stared at Bobby's beaten old back porch and realized he still didn't have the faintest idea how he was going to convince him of what had happened. One thing at a time – gotta keep it to one thing at a time. He'd just have to wing it.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he got out of the car and walked up to knock on the door. He waited impatiently for Bobby to answer it, fidgeting where he stood. So many little things still felt off. His view of the door, the weight of the hoodie on his shoulders versus that of his leather jacket, having hair long enough to fall into his eyes. It gave him little chills whenever he felt these minute oddities. Hell, he'd almost missed his aim at the urinal for crying out loud! And he _never_ missed. He could write his name in the friggin' snow in the winter. This was all just so damn wrong. He loved his brother, but this was just too damn much.

He instantly forgot all of that and more as the sound of a bolt being pulled back echoed from inside the house.

Bobby opened the door and immediately Dean knew all was not well with him. Dark bags lay prominently beneath half clouded eyes. His usually scraggly beard was even more so as if he'd not paid attention to it for a day or two. His clothes looked rumpled and slept in, if he'd actually slept at all.

The moment the older man spotted him, however, his eyes opened up wide and his whole body seemed suddenly infused with power as he straightened where he stood. "Sam!"

The one word screamed of worry, frustration, and utter relief at seeing him there. It was obvious then that the things Sammy had done, he'd gone about and done alone.

Bobby stepped forward and slapped both of Dean's borrowed arms with his hands and gripped them a moment as if making sure he was really there before letting go. "It's good to see you, boy!"

Dean felt a grin tugging at the side of his mouth, feeling pretty much the same. "You, too, Bobby. More than you know."

A slightly puzzled expression flickered across the old hunter's face. He backed up as if suddenly worried about crowding Sam's space, the relief and happiness at seeing him abruptly slammed away as his features took on a cautious expression. "I left you at least half a dozen messages since yesterday. I was starting to think something bad might have happened to you."

Dean could no longer meet his gaze, his gut clenching inside him. "Yeah, well, something did."

Bobby backed up enough for Dean to come through the door, his gaze never leaving his face. "Such as?"

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. He still didn't have the faintest idea how he was going to do this. "Maybe it'd be better if you were sitting down first."

He saw Bobby palm something off the short bookshelf behind him but didn't see what it was.

"You left in the middle of the night, Sam."

"I did?" Dean realized his mistake after he spoke, but he'd just been too shocked by the statement. He'd asked Bobby to take care of Sam if things didn't work out in Indiana, his kid brother in way too much danger to try to take care of things on his own, if he even somehow survived the night. That neither Winchester might make it out alive had been a high possibility. But obviously though he'd planned for Sammy's survival after he paid his debt to Lilith something had gone terribly wrong. Yet it wouldn't be the first time Sam ditched someone in the middle of the night just so he could avoid an argument and do what he wanted either.

Dean rubbed the back of his hand along his jaw, not able to help but notice how Bobby continued staring as he backed up deeper into the room, not turning his back on him for a second. This wasn't going the direction it was supposed to. Any moment now he had a feeling Bobby was going to try to stab him with whatever he'd picked up or throw some holy water on him or worse.

He stopped. "Ah fuck it! Bobby, I'm not Sam, okay?" His friend froze where he stood. Dean made himself get on with it. "This is going to sound insane but I'm Dean. Sam traded his soul for mine sometime last night and it looks like the only working body they could find to put me in was his."

Dean felt his cheeks grow warm as the man just gawked at him in dumbfounded surprise. "I'd hoped to break it to you gently, but I'm no good with that type of thing. Sorry."

Bobby shook his head and took another step back. "Look, I know you were torn up about losing your brother and all, but I never expected…this…"

"You talking to me or are you still talking to Sammy, Bobby? Cause my little brother vacated the premises and I'm none too happy about it. Especially about being stuck in this Sasquatch body of his. It's _his_ not mine. Don't want it." He took a step toward the older man, trying his best to plead with him. "Bobby, you gotta help me get Sammy back from the pit."

His friend just stared at him his face pale and stiff but his eyes almost spinning in their sockets. "It's all my fault." Bobby suddenly wiped a shaking hand across his face. "I should have tried harder. I knew something wasn't right. You were too quiet."

"You don't believe me." It shouldn't have stung, but it did. A lot! "Bobby, this isn't some joke. This isn't Sammy going whacko. I'm telling you the truth. Sam traded his freakin' soul for _mine_. He got me out. And now we need to do something about it."

Bobby looked over at him and tears, big honking tears welled up in his eyes and tumbled down his face. "I don't know how to help you with this, Sam. Dean is dead." The pain in his voice was almost a solid weight. "There's no way to bring him back. I told you that before. We buried his body like you wanted but it's toast. He's not coming back. And pretending you're him isn't going to bring him back either."

Dean didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Bobby, did you not listen to a single thing I said? Sam made a _deal_. He actually found him a stinking lunatic of a demon who would play and traded his soul for mine!" He rushed forward thinking about shaking some sense into his friend if his words didn't work.

Before he got to him, however, Bobby pulled the knife he'd been hiding behind his back and put it between them. "Stay right there!" His voice brooked this wasn't open for discussion. He wiped at his face roughly with his green sleeve, his whole body tense.

Dean didn't dare move, alarmed that he'd pushed his friend too far somehow.

"If you're Sam, you're off your rocker." Bobby frowned and shook his head. "And pretending for one second you might actually be Dean, answer me this – why the hell would a demon trade Dean's doomed soul for yours? What would they get out of it? They don't go for even trades down there." Bobby half turned and backed up some more bypassing most of the kitchen. When he reached the entryway to the study, he reached back blindly for a clear bottle sitting on the tall bookshelves there.

"The bastard thought it'd be 'entertaining'." Dean felt an ugly snarl mar his face. "Since I'd already had a taste of the wonders of Hell, he figured that'd make me feel so much better knowing Sammy was down there in my place. Knowing _exactly_ what they'd be putting him through." And worse than the act itself was the fact the bastard was right. It was one thing to try to imagine Hell. It was a whole other matter knowing precisely what went on there.

Bobby glanced at the floor for a moment before shyly looking back his way. "That sounds like something they might do." He shuffled his feet. "I'm gonna toss you this bottle and I want you to take a good long drink."

"You think I'm possessed?"

"I don't know what to think. So humor me." Bobby tossed the bottle over.

With a frown, Dean caught it. He twisted the top off and he didn't just take a long drink, he chugged the whole damn thing down. He wanted this stupidity over with. The clock was ticking and every second they stood here arguing about who he really was was that many more for Sam. He tossed the bottle back even as a large burp rose up his throat. He let it out to echo in the kitchen. "Satisfied?"

Bobby shifted where he stood, the knife still between them. "Not really…," he said sheepishly.

"Dammit, Bobby!" Dean stomped his foot on the floor, his arms rising and dropping fast with his coiled fists showing his frustration. "We've no time for this! Sam is being tortured down there. Just tell me what other stupid tests you want me to do to prove to you I'm not whatever and get them over with! _Now_!"

Bobby eyed him strangely. "You never were patient much."

Dean suddenly had an idea. "Okay, I know, how about this? You and I had a conversation Sam knew nothing about and I never told him and neither did you as far as I know. I asked you once if you thought there might be something wrong with my brother. If you thought he might have come back different." He couldn't look at Bobby directly as he said this, the fact he'd ever doubted Sammy was one hundred percent Sam still filling him with guilt. "You said demons lie. That of course Sammy was Sammy."

Bobby suddenly looked like he'd bitten into a slice of bitter lemon or worse. "De…Dean…?"

He gave a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping. Finally! "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"You have to admit it's something rather big to swallow."

Dean could see doubt still nipping at him. "What more can I do? Come on, Bobby! _Please_."

His friend stared gingerly at the floor then extended the silver knife toward him.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Dean reached forward his longer arm almost making him overreach, and took the offered knife. "You realize if I'm Sam and I'm nuts this won't prove a damn thing, right?"

Bobby shrugged. "The more items off the list the better, in my opinion."

Dean tried his best to grin and bear it. "Fine." He pulled the hoodie up over his head, and after dropping it onto the floor, he jerked up the sleeve of Sam's dark blue outer shirt and exposed his forearm. Staring at Bobby, he took a deep breath, held it, then got ready to cut the skin. He hesitated just for a second, suddenly seeing himself in a different place, with someone else holding the knife and about to cut him in unimaginable ways. It sent a jolt of mindless fear shooting through him. The blade trembled in his hand.

He shook his head to dispel the unwanted image and the feelings coiled around it and ran the blessed knife across his brother's arm. The shallow cut bled and burned like hell. The shallow ones always did. He ignored the momentary pang of guilt at marring Sam's body, but knew this would heal in time. "Happy now?"

Bobby's eyes glistened. "Damn, boy, this is a mess isn't it?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, what else is new?"

Before the words totally finished leaving his mouth, he found himself pulled into a fierce hug. Up this close, he towered over the older man by several inches. It was as if his old friend had shrunk on him. But being here, hugged by him and hugging him back, that was perfect. He honestly never thought he'd be seeing Bobby ever again. He grabbed the back of the old hunter's shirt and pulled him in tighter, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

A strange yet familiar poking sensation flared on his chest. As soon as the two of them parted, Dean reached up to feel his shirt. Finding an unexpected lump, he felt around his neck and found a leather cord there. He pulled up what it held from behind the shirt and ogled in surprise. It was his amulet. Sam had been wearing his amulet. It was Dean's most prized possession, something he'd received from Sammy himself. And though he'd been gone, probably forever, Sammy had kept this near his heart, kept an absent Dean close.

Before his brother went off his rocker and traded his soul for Dean's and fucked up everything. Fucked up _every damn last thing_.

Suddenly it got real hard to breathe or see the room around him and Dean didn't feel very good at all. Then the whole thing decided to turn upside down on him.

"Whoa, Dean!"

Strong hands kept him from hitting the floor. And though he struggled to stand back up, gasping for breath, his legs (Sammy's legs, fool, not yours, Sammy's) were having nothing to do with it. He leaned heavily against Bobby as the latter dragged him across the room and sat him down on one of the chairs by the kitchen table.

"You with me, boy?"

Dean tried to nod, but this only set the room spinning even more. "Sammy…wasn't being too good to himself before I came on board. And I pretty much drove straight here. I think it's catching up with me."

"Let me scrounge you up some grub, then you should try to get some sleep. Sam hadn't been taking real good care of himself for quite a while now." Bobby said this quietly, not looking at him.

Just what had his brother been doing? "Listen. It's been too long already. Every hour here is like five days there. Sammy's been down there for at least a week already!" He tried to stand up again, holding onto the table's edge and the back of the chair. "And it's nasty down there, Bobby, _real_ nasty. The guy they had on me, he's…he's…" His whole body started to shake.

Bobby put his hand on Dean's chest and pushed him back down into the chair. Dean didn't have the strength to resist him.

"Look, I told your brother this up front, but he wouldn't believe me. He spent days looking through my stuff searching for answers and came up with the same -- squat." Bobby knelt in front of him, his hand still resting on Dean's chest. "It's why he ran on me. Why he went to make a deal." His eyes locked with Dean's, his misery at having to say the words pouring off of him. "There's no way to get someone back from the pit."

"No! There's got to be a way. There's got to be something! I even have the bastard's _name_. We could summon him up, force him to bring Sam back." Dean tried pushing against Bobby's hand, to get to his feet because he needed, had to do something. This wouldn't end like this -- no way! It got him nowhere. It was like his arms and legs didn't know how to respond to his commands anymore. Which figured, since they weren't actually his.

Bobby shook his head not looking at him anymore, as if the sight of Sam's face pleading for Sam's soul was too painful to see. "Dean, please…There's ways to summon them, sure, but it's what happens afterwards that doesn't work so much. We got nothing to trade."

"Then we just keep the bastard trapped here forever!" Why was Bobby fighting him on this? There had to be a way to bargain with Alistair. Yet even as he thought it he knew it wasn't true. Alistair was as bad as they came and if it wasn't in his best interest, you could totally forget about it. Dean's frustration grew.

Bobby slowly shook his head still not looking at him. "Wouldn't stop others from hurting your brother in his stead."

Tortured, his brother was not being hurt, he was being _tortured_, rent limb from limb, bled out, eyes gouged out, muscles torn, nerves put on fire, and that odious question being asked of him day after day. Dean had to get him out. He _had_ to find a way. Their father had made it out, why couldn't - "_The Devil's Gate_!"

Bobby looked up at him, his face a mask of confusion.

"We open the Devil's Gate! That's how we get Sammy out." The more he thought about the idea the more he thought it was worth a shot.

Bobby rocked back up to his feet. "Are you insane? Don't you remember what happened the last time the thing was opened?"

Dean waved his hand at him to shut him up, his mind rushing around at a thousand miles an hour. "The damn thing is in the middle of a giant pentagram, right? I'm sure YED had Jake muck it up. All we gotta do is make sure Ellen did as she said she would and fixed the thing and when we open the gate the demons won't have any place to go. We can do this, Bobby! I know we can!"

He had hope again.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Bobby still looked at him as if Dean had lost all his marbles.

"My father made it out that way! There's a chance Sam could too." Dean tried once again to get to his feet and this time he actually managed it. How long he'd be able to stay there was something else altogether. "Hell, let's make a devil's trap around the damn gate so we make sure none of those bastards doubly can't get out and cause any mischief. I'll laugh in their faces as they bounce off the damn thing. But I can't leave Sammy down there, Bobby. _I can't_!"

The old hunter looked away. He took off his faded red cap, ran his hand through his thinning hair then put it back on. "I…I guess if we took precautions we could maybe get away with it. But you know there're no guarantees, right? That just because we open the gate it won't automatically mean Sam will get out?"

"It'll work." Dean's borrowed hands coiled into fists at his side. "It has to." Then he was struck by a horrible thought. "You do still have the original Colt, right? _Right_?" He moved without thinking straight into Bobby's personal space.

"Dean, calm down, dammit!" Bobby made as if to push him away then seemed to think better of it. "I have it. It's in pieces, but I'm sure I can put it back together again." He went around him and headed for the fridge. "Tell you what. You sit down, eat a couple of sandwiches and drink some milk, and I'll go get it. All right?"

Dean closed his eyes, the seconds ticking away like drum beats in his head -- seconds that meant minutes for Sam, minutes of suffering. He had to be reasonable though, he knew that. It was just so _very_ hard. "I'll make the sandwiches and eat, you just go get the gun."

Bobby nodded and set the fixings on the counter and left him to it.

Dean didn't much bother looking at what was there and just grabbed a couple of pieces of bread and shoved them full of lunch meat and bit down. He grabbed the glass of milk Bobby had poured for him and dumped himself into the nearest chair of the kitchen table.

The sandwich was gone in seconds and the milk followed not long after. The food felt like dead weights in his stomach, making acid roil up his throat. Was this why Sammy was so damn picky about his food or was this just nerves? His foot bopped up and down of its own volition, pretty much giving him the answer.

He stood up, having held his end of the deal, deciding he could help Bobby look for the damn thing or put it back together or whatever. He grabbed on tight to the railing of the stairs leading down, not entirely trusting Sam's body to keep him up at the moment, and rushed to the basement. Striding down the nearest hall, he peeked inside each of the filled spaces looking for the old hunter. He finally found him inside a room full of steel blanks and dies, even a small forge for making gun parts.

Bobby stood close to a beat up old desk holding something in his hands.

"Did you find it?"

He saw Bobby jerk as if he'd hit him. The face he turned toward him looked to have aged ten years from mere minutes before. Dean barreled on in, not sure what to make of it. His friend held a small labeled box. The lid was open. The only things nestled inside it were a bunch of metal filings.

"Bobby, where's the gun?"

The old hunter shook his head, staring at the box. "It's gone. I think Sam took it."

"What the hell for? He made a deal!"

Bobby dropped the box back into the open drawer. "Maybe switching souls wasn't the first thing that came to mind for him to try."

Oh no, oh, fuck no. He knew what Bobby was trying to say and he didn't like it one bit. "Bullshit! And even if he did, how do we know he didn't get the door open and I just never realized it? We need to go out there. We need to see for ourselves. Hell, the damn gun is probably in the Impala's trunk if he did take the damn thing with him. Maybe he went and made the deal hoping I would think of doing this to get him out!"

"Dean…please…" Bobby looked like he might cry.

It scared the crap out of him. "Look, I have to try. I got nothing else, Bobby!" His voice rose in volume until it was almost a scream. "_I can't leave Sammy down there_!"

A yawning pit opened up in front of him and he knew he would fall. This was bad. This was so much worse than bad. The anguish he felt when Jake killed Sam and he'd not been able to protect him was _nothing_ compared to what he was feeling now. It was one thing for Sammy to die and leave him here alone, it was a whole other for him to be trapped in Hell forever, suffering and suffering until he caved in and Hell destroyed him and made him a demon like it had countless others. If there was anything, anything he could try, he had to. If he didn't, he was sure he'd die.

Something of this must have shown on his face, because Bobby suddenly sighed and nodded. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to check it out."

Bobby left the room like he was on fire and headed for the stairs. Dean was right behind him.

"I'm driving though, and no arguments. And I expect you to get some shuteye while we're on the road."

Dean followed Bobby up the stairs, nodding and saying nothing, just grateful the hunter was humoring him and they were doing _something_.

Bobby stopped in the kitchen, made another sandwich and handed it to Dean without a word before putting all the stuff away. The hunter kept moving, not looking at him, and Dean just followed, shoving the new sandwich down his throat without so much as tasting it, like he had the last. Bobby picked up a couple of books from his study, a jacket, and his set of keys and headed outside. Dean glanced down at Sam's hoodie and left it where he'd dropped it. Sam's body or not, he didn't want to be caught dead in the thing. His brother could pull it off, but it would only make him feel self conscious. He'd fish one of Sam's other jackets out of the duffels when he opened the trunk to look for the Colt.

Birdsong filled the yard as they stepped outside, the sky a shining blue with some puffy clouds sprinkled about to break the monotony. Without meaning to Dean reveled at the sun touching his skin, reaffirming to him yet again this wasn't the pit. Though he knew where he was, he knew he was free, there was doubt constantly nibbling at the back of his mind telling him he was still exactly where he'd been before and at any moment Alistair would slap him and remind him of just that -- his knife but moments away from igniting his skin in pain.

It was wrong, and he knew that, but there it was anyway. And in some ways he hoped that though it wasn't true that maybe it was, that maybe he really was still the one in the pit and not Sammy. Because he wasn't special like his brother, he wasn't worthy of being given yet another chance to live. And thinking Sam had done this for him, and about what he was suffering in his stead, it was ripping his soul to shreds piece by little piece.

Dean pounded his fist hard on the lid of the Impala's trunk. He closed his eyes as the pain travelled up his arm, pushing everything back, not wanting to think. He could feel Bobby's presence behind him, but the hunter said nothing and he was fine with that. More than fine. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he opened the trunk.

He didn't remember seeing the Colt when he fished through the hidden space for the cash stash, so he manhandled the duffels around in the regular trunk space looking for it, in case it was there instead. Running across Sammy's green jacket, he pulled that out and tossed it up and over onto the car's roof for later then dumped a duffel with some of Sam's clothes and his shaving kit onto the gravel to take with.

He was just about to give up and open the secret compartment to scour for the gun when he spotted it. The rebuilt Colt was shoved beneath the last duffel, half jammed in the corner into the back seat. Dean felt his heart jump into his throat at the sight of it, relief and dread flushing through him in an even mix.

It took him a couple of tries before he could find his voice. "Got it. Let's go!"

He slammed the trunk lid of the Impala closed and grabbed the jacket off the roof, the gun gripped tight in his free hand. Bobby had already absconded with the duffel and put it in the SS. Dean walked over and slipped inside into the passenger seat.

The old hunter climbed onboard a few moments later and slipped the key into the ignition, the engine growling as it came to life and sounding rearing to go.

"Gonna be about a seven hour drive." Bobby's comment was even, without emotion, yet it made Dean tremble inside. That meant it'd be at least another thirty five days of Sam being abused in Hell.

"You gotta shave off as much out of that as you can, Bobby." He was surprised his own voice sounded rather matter of fact instead of coming out the same as the screech of horror echoing in his head.

"I'll do what I can, believe me."

The Camaro peeled down the lot sending gravel and dust flying everywhere.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam was strapped naked to the rack, the barbed restraints gouging into his wrists, ankles, and forehead as he struggled silently against them. Blood dribbled slowly down the restraints and dripped off the sides onto the gleaming obsidian floor. His wide eyes shifted in their sockets, spotting movement. His struggles increased, muscle and sinew bulging as fear lent him hidden strength to pull against the straps, to no avail. The red drops splattered randomly on the floor around him in a widening circle as he uselessly kept fighting to escape his fate.

"Don't do this! Please, don't do this!" Sam's eyes grew wider with increased panic and pain, all of their attention focused on the one thing he'd come to fear most.

Still the black knife came forward. It was dragged lightly across his gleaming sweat covered chest leaving a small bleeding trail, the red screaming against the white skin, showing all just how sharp the blade really was. Sam's distorted expression of terror refracted off the multifaceted obsidian blade.

Then the knife turned sideways and was brought up sharply, cutting off the tip of Sam's right nipple. He screamed, the sound echoing around him, and jerked against the restraints as blood oozed in jerks and spurts from the new wound.

The view slowly pulled back showing the dried blood covered body of his torturer. "You need to pay attention, Sammy. I'm only doing this for your own good."

"No. No! I'm your brother, _please_!" Sam's voice rose sharply in his plea then broke.

Dean smiled widely, his teeth worked to sharp points in his mouth. "But that's exactly why I have to do this, Sammy. So we can be brothers again. Be the same again." He popped the piece of cut flesh into his mouth and chewed, the whites of his eyes as black as midnight.

Then the knife came for Sam again.

His brother screamed.

------

Dean jerked upright in the seat, smashing his head against the roof of the Camaro. Vomit struggled up his throat and he clamped his hands over his mouth to keep it in until he could swallow it back down. Shivers ran rampant up and down his body, horror making his blood run cold.

"You all right, Dean?"

He shook his head no, knowing nothing would ever be all right again. Not freaking ever! "Pull over, Bobby. Pull over now!"

The old hunter didn't hesitate. The Camaro swerved to the right into the highway's emergency lane and came to a screeching halt. Dean sagged onto the door latch and popped it open. He half fell out onto the asphalt, gasping great lungfuls of air into his overtly tight chest.

He felt his amulet swinging from his neck and he reached up and grabbed it, squeezing it until the horns jabbed deep into his flesh.

A door slammed on the other side of the car, the sound of vehicles zooming past a low thrumming in the air. Dean closed his eyes and let himself go limp and landed on his side on the sun warmed road and just stayed there.

"Dean, what's going on? You okay, boy?" Bobby's worried voice and shadow folded over him.

He wasn't alone. And this was so not the time to fall apart. Seconds were ticking by. Get yourself together, fool! Sammy's counting on you. Do your damn job!

Dean pushed up with his free arm (Sammy's arm, not yours, never yours, give it back) and though it wobbled it held. Hands grabbed him from the other end and helped pull him up into a sitting position. He forced his eyes to flicker open.

"Boy, can you hear me?"

He tried to nod. "I hear…you…" Dean let go of the amulet and clamped his hand on Bobby's shoulder and tried to pull himself up to his feet. The hunter shifted his grip to help him.

"Whoa, steady. How about we use the seat?"

Dean half flailed as Bobby changed direction and gently pushed him back and bent his head down to get him inside and onto the passenger seat of the Camaro. Dean leaned his side onto the back of the seat so it could hold him up instead of having to work at it himself.

"I think you dented the ceiling. How's your noggin'?" Bobby knelt down in front of him.

"Dude, we gotta stop meeting like this. Someone's bound to get the wrong idea."

A momentary grin flashed on his friend's face. "Smart ass gene's intact at least."

"Very funny." He waived the older man back. "I'm fine, Bobby. We need to get going. Want me to drive?"

"Keep dreaming, boy. You're in no condition to and you know it."

"I can drive while in a comma." He meant to put some force behind the statement, but he was lucky just to get it out.

"Such bravado might work with your brother, but I know better." Bobby stared at him long and hard for a moment. "What the hell happened?"

Dean shook his head (Sammy's head, Sammy's head) and didn't meet his gaze. "Nothing. Just a bad dream. Let's get moving." He slipped his long legs (Sammy's Sammy's Sammy's) into the car and tried reaching for the door to pull it shut.

Bobby grabbed hold of it for him. "Have it your way." He moved out and closed the door after making sure all of Dean's bits were inside. He then hurried around to the driver's side after checking for traffic and slipped once more behind the wheel of the SS.

Dean reached over and turned the radio on, his hand none too steady as Bobby got them back underway. No way no how was he going to go back to sleep. "How much further?"

"About two hours give or take."

"We're breaking speed limits, right?"

Bobby gave him a raised brow look which seemed to say 'what the hell do you think?'.

Dean grunted to the unvoiced comment and tried willing the car to go faster anyway.

"I take it then that you remember what it was like down there?" Bobby asked the question quietly almost as if to let Dean decide whether he could hear it over the radio or not.

He debated with himself for a moment whether to answer and decided that as things were going it would be to Sam's best interest for him to be honest. "Yeah…I remember all of it." Dean stared out the passenger side window echoes of tortured screams going through his head. The muscle at his jaw line throbbed.

He was out. But millions, billions, and Sammy, were still there. It wasn't right. His father would be furious. Dean had double failed at his job – first by letting Sam get killed and now this.

He expected Bobby to ask more questions, but he didn't, only staring hard out at the road when Dean risked a glance in his direction. It was just as well. None of his answers would have been pretty.

So instead of worrying about it, he listened to the oddball station on the radio and concentrated on making out the lyrics of the songs to keep himself from thinking of other things as much as possible.

The drive went on and on and on.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

They only stopped for gas, everything else secured through drive-thrus. They hit Wisconsin before nightfall and the last of the sun's rays were starting to disappear in the distance as they pulled up to the old Fossil Butte Cowboy Cemetery.

Bobby parked the SS and after he and Dean took out the Colt, a large canister of salt, a lantern and some other tools, they made their way onto the grounds.

Someone had been here before them, that much was instantly obvious. Though the iron rod fence and wilted grass and weeds hadn't changed, not even the ground covering the two extra unmarked graves added to the mix over a year ago, a lot seemed to have happened right in the vicinity of the gate itself.

Dean tried hard not to consider what it meant as they dodged around both low and high headstones as they came closer to the gate and he could start making out details.

The ground right around the door was burned. Smoke stains covered the underside of the short awning and he could still smell it. The doors themselves had dings and scratches. The hinges had scrapes, but looked none the worse for them. The whole thing looked as solid as ever.

Maybe the demons came back and tried to open the gate again. He knew Ellen had taken it upon herself to find a few hunters to follow the rail lines and fix the tracks, to make sure the gate was protected once more, but the demons might have found a way to muck 'em up again.

That someone had been here recently and tried to open the Devil's Gate by any means at their disposal didn't mean it had to have been _Sam_.

He noticed Bobby taking a long look at the doors and the signs someone had done battle with them, but the old hunter said nothing. Dean was grateful. Cause no way had it been his brother. No way.

"Here, use this to gouge a narrow trench around the building. I'll fill it with salt. Then we can carve another bigger circle and make a devil's trap." He held out a well used pickaxe to Dean. "I want to make sure we're as safe as can be before we do this thing. And the light is fading fast."

Dean took the tool without saying anything and got to work.

An hour later, his back and armpits were soaked with sweat and every inch of him ached from his labors because the dead ground had fought him all the bloody way. Dean dropped the pick and sat down to catch his breath on the edge of a short tombstone. He hoped the owner wouldn't mind, but at the moment he was just too tired to care even if he did. He stared at the Colt where it sat by the one of the gas lanterns Bobby'd brought to light up the zone once they lost the sun. The metal and ivory glinted at him as if trying to tell him something, but he just couldn't make out what.

Bone tired as he was, he was desperate to try this thing. To get Sammy the heck out of Hell, yet knew they had to be careful. Too many people had already paid for mistakes committed by Winchesters. He didn't want Sammy back with yet more debts he could never repay.

"Okay, Dean, I think we're finally ready to try this thing."

He nodded, noticing that Bobby was looking pale and a little ragged around the edges. Exercise wasn't the only thing sapping their strength.

Dean pushed away from his resting place and scooped up the Colt from where it lay. The gun felt heavy in his hand, not light as on that long ago night when he'd used it to snuff out Azazel's putrid demon life. Each time he'd fired the thing, then and before, it had felt as if it'd been tailor made for him. But not today. The hand that held it was different than the one from those other times. He tried hard not to let it mean anything, not to let it make him feel as if there was a message there. His free hand he wrapped around the amulet dangling from his neck and willed Sammy to hear him, to somehow sense what he was doing and find a way to make a break for it if he could.

If worse came to worse, Dean would grab a shotgun and his Colt 1911, then with the demon knife in hand head down the gate into Hell and go find his brother himself. He was pretty sure he'd heard some story or other where a Greek or Roman had done it before. Sammy wouldn't be Alistair's toy any longer than necessary. His soul would soon be free – one way or another.

With rising feelings of dread and expectation, he approached the metal double doors making sure not to damage the two levels of defense they'd erected around the structure. Just as he'd seen Jake do over a year ago, Dean inserted the barrel of the gun into the keyhole in the middle of the barbwire looking pentagram lock. Hoping Bobby couldn't see how his hand was shaking, he turned the gun in the slot.

Nothing happened.

Seconds continued to tick by and still nada. No clicks, no whirs, no nothing.

"No, damn you, work!" He turned the gun, took it out, slammed it back in and turned it again.

Zilch changed.

"You piece of shit! Let my brother out!" Dean jiggled the gun with all his might (Sam's might not yours never yours) but still nothing happened. He cocked it and pulled the trigger, thinking maybe Jake had done something extra he'd missed. All useless.

"I was afraid of that…"

Dean pulled the gun out of the slot and turned on him. "_What_? Spit it out!"

Bobby seemed to shrink before his eyes. He wouldn't meet his gaze. "The bullets…I'd thought that maybe they might also be a part of the key mechanism, not just the gun by itself… Otherwise why would that demon have risked leaving a bullet in the gun…"

"You're shitting me…" Samuel Colt was a total douche bag! Who the fuck made a key dependent on having bullets? Rare, never can be made again bullets. "Mother fucker!" Dean pitched the Colt as hard as he could at the nearest tombstone.

It rebounded off the stone to the dead grass with a satisfying crack.

The Devil's Gate wasn't going to be opened. Sammy wasn't going to be saved. Like hell! He turned towards his friend again. "Bobby, how do we get a hold of some dynamite?"

The old hunter's mouth dropped open at the question and took a step away from him. "We can't do that…"

Dean glared at him, sick and tired of every stinking idea he had being shot down before they even tried it. "_And why the hell not_?"

Panic, and what he could have sworn was rampant fear raced across his friend's face but was almost instantly replaced by livid anger. "Because you'd be opening a gateway out of Hell that could never be _closed_ is why! How stupidly pig headed are you Winchesters that you can't see the things right in front of your faces? There's a time to push and there's a time to quit, boy! For all intents and purposes, Sam is dead. And there's not going to be a damn thing you can do about it and you need to start getting used to the idea!"

Dean could feel his face (Sammy's face not yours, Sammy's) bunch up as a violent retort raced up his throat but he never got a chance to say it.

Bobby whipped the cap of his head and threw it on the ground. "You think you're the only one who's ever lost a loved one? You think you're the only who's had to reconcile themselves to the fact there wasn't a damn thing they could do? No matter how bad you don't want to face them, facts are facts! And this deluded world you Winchesters love to build around yourselves is bullshit! I already lost you once and now your brother twice. And yet you want to give demons free reign on this plane for something that only _might_ work? When does the fallout outweigh the benefits for you all? You need to learn when the hell to draw the line!"

Dean's body went numb (Sammy's body, not your body, never your body), Bobby's words falling on him like blows though the older man never touched him.

Bobby drew a shaky hand across his face. "You know…I tried, I really tried getting through to Sam, tried to get him to see you were gone and for him to let go and deal with it. All that got me was a lot of grief and him running out on me in the middle of the night. And now, and now the two of you have switched places and I'm right back where I started. Cause you look to be no more willing to see what's staring you in the face than he was." Tears gathered in his eyes as he looked up at him. "You think you're the only one suffering? You think you're the only one weighed down with guilt? Hell, why should a Winchester ever look beyond his own friggin' needs? _Damn you_, open your eyes, boy, before you make everything ten times worse than it already is!"

Dean stood frozen, paralyzed by the unexpected outburst. This was Bobby, calm Bobby, knows what to do Bobby, gotten them out of a bunch of nasty scrapes Bobby, and he was this broken? Over them?

He looked away from his friend, the raw wound of his emotions more than Dean could handle at the moment. Bobby didn't really understand… Or was his friend right and he just preferred to think Bobby couldn't when he actually did? Because it made things easier for him?

The realization was like a slap to the face. He stumbled backwards until his back (Sammy's back you bastard Sammy's back and he was going to get it yes he was he was) hit the door of the Devil's Gate. His chest was in a vice, one so strong he couldn't breathe. Sammy was gone, but this gate, this gate was his only way to try to get him back. But Bobby was right, too, if he blew the doors away, if that somehow worked, there'd be no way to shut them again. Because any precautions they came up with wouldn't hold forever if long at all. He would be flooding the world with evil for his own selfish needs and without even a guarantee he might succeed. Who the hell did he think he was?

But Sammy was down there, Sammy was being tortured, Sammy would be held over the coals until he gave in and Alistair got his way! And who knew what would happen to his little brother then? He _couldn't_ leave him down there! But how the heck was he supposed to get him out? How the heck was he supposed to spare Sam all that pain? How was he supposed to do his job and keep his brother safe?

Dean brought the heels of his hands (Sammy's Sammy's not yours Sammy's thief-murderer-betrayer) onto his closed eyes and pushed, feeling the burning behind the orbs and not wanting, not caring to show any grief, because there was no need for grief, he'd get him back he'd get him back he'd get him back!

He had things to do, he needed to save his brother, he needed to get him out. His heart (Sam's you liar-thief-murderer his) wrenched abruptly as an unwanted thought careened out of nowhere to stab him deep. Was this, was this how Sam had felt for an entire _year_ knowing Dean was going to the pit and not being able to do a damn thing about it? Was this the hell he put his brother through before he actually found a way to make the trade and take it all back?

His legs (Sammy's Sammy's Sammy's) quivered and gave out and he slid slowly to the ground.

A tortured moan bounced around his ears until he realized it was coming from him. He tried to close it off, to curl in on himself to keep it inside, but the harder he tried the more it fought to escape. His eyes (Sammy's blast you Sammy's eyes) burned even hotter, water leaking past his pressed palms (not yours never yours) to trail down his face (stolen face _give it back_ stolen stolen stolen stolen).

The first sob shook his whole body (liar liar Sammy's Sammy's) even as he tried vainly to swallow it. If Sam and Bobby both hadn't found a safe way to drag someone from the pit, how could he? How _would_ _he_? His little brother was gone, cursed to Hell, and he was the one who had done it to him, because he'd been selfish, hadn't thought he could live without him. Because he hadn't been able to live with the fact he'd not kept his baby brother safe. And look where it got him! Sam thrown down to Hell, his soul to be tormented and twisted until he got turned into a demon who would torture others and plague the human race.

This was All His Fault.

If he'd put a gun to Sammy's head and pulled the trigger, it'd been kinder than what he'd ended up doing to him.

How was he supposed to live with that?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Dean, we should get out of here."

Bobby's tone was gentle and apologetic and Dean couldn't have cared less. His brother was dead. He stayed curled up against the corner of the Devil's Gate feeling numb and empty. He'd never cried so hard or for so long in his entire life. He figured some of Sam's girly hormones must be working on him through his borrowed body -- as if.

He heard Bobby shift in front of him, but Dean didn't move, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed, his foreign body coiled. Only hours had passed yet they felt like lifetimes. The night continued to fold in around them, stared at by the dead still clinging to this awful place.

His throat hurt. He might have screamed and cursed at the top of his lungs but didn't rightly remember. It was all just a blur of hurt. As if a piece of him had been ripped off his body. (Sam Sam Sammy Sam) He wanted nothing more than to sit here and rot. But he owed Bobby more than that, owed Sam more than that. So he tried.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out raspy and sounded abused. "And where exactly…is there for me to go, Bobby? What…am I supposed to do now?"

He pretty much expected his friend to bring up the fact Lilith was still loose and needed to be brought down, her and the other two hundred or so demons that were running around after the first time the Devil's Gate got opened. Bobby would bring up how they should work to try and stop yet _another_ possible impending End of the World. Problem was he didn't give a shit about any of it. Dean pulled at his hair (not yours not yours) just wanting everything to go away, for the whole freaking world to explode and take him with it.

Instead, Bobby didn't say anything right away and when he did, there was sadness, pain, and strangely enough love coating his response. "My home. Your home, too, if you'll let it. And we'll grieve and grieve till we're done with it…if ever."

The gentle words somehow hurt more than all the yelling from before. It was madness.

"But what's the point, Bobby? _What is the_ _point_?" He'd pushed Sam's throat too far, his voice cracked at the end.

If only he'd been a little faster. If he'd pressed the drive a little harder, jogged a tiny bit quicker down the wooden trail a year ago, then, maybe then he would have gotten to Sam before Jake could get up behind him and kill him. He could have saved Sammy from dying in the first place and not set in motion everything that came after -- every blasted ugly thing.

He heard the sound of jeans moving and bones popping as Bobby crouched down beside him. "To honor him. To not waste his sacrifice. To spite the bastards that brought us to this. To live."

Dean felt his breath rattle inside him. It wasn't enough. It just wasn't enough. As fiercely as he loved his brother, he also hated him right now. Hated him for putting him through this, hated him for not leaving things alone, for putting himself into a situation Dean had no hope of saving him from. And he was scared. Scared of being here, scared Alistair wanted him back, scared of caring, scared of Sammy coming back within his lifetime riding another person's body, his eyes black from end to end, looking for him to thank him for all he'd done.

"Dean, I'd really rather not do this alone." Bobby spoke so softly, he almost didn't hear him. "I need your help, boy. _Please_?"

He groaned at the request. It was a low blow. Yet a part of him was glad of it. The part that liked to be needed that liked to have focus, that wanted to be able to lie to himself and make him think he had some _worth_. He'd lost the ones who were his responsibility before -- first his father, then Sam. Did he dare do it again? To fail again? But dare he not? This man, this man who'd risked his life on more than one occasion on their behalf, did he not deserve that from him? He was more than just a friend. As Bobby had told them when Dean tried to leave him behind before going to that possible final fight in Indiana, there was more to family than blood.

Bobby was family. The only family Dean had left.

And his family needed him. It needed him to carry on, to live. Whether he wanted to or not. He just wasn't sure he could manage it.

"Fine. You win…" He hoped Bobby would never regret it. Dean had just committed himself to this new path and he already did.

Bobby's ensuing relief was almost palpable. "We can hole up somewhere for the day. Get our strength back. Then drive home and go from there."

Dean barely nodded not having anything to say to that.

Parts of his borrowed body screamed in protest when he tried to move. Blood flowed back into his hands, legs, fingers and toes and it hurt like shit. None of them were happy. He was sure they would mutiny if they could, throw the usurper out. He would have gladly obliged them if there'd been a way for him to do it.

Shaky at first, he used the metal door to push himself up to his feet. Bobby hovered just out of direct view, looking half poised to leap in to the rescue if he needed it. No effing way. He might not have much left that belonged to him, like a freaking body, but he still had his pride. Bobby had asked Dean for his help, Bobby hadn't asked if he could give it.

Dean pushed off from the gate and headed toward the nearest tombstone. He focused on the slab of stone and only it. He had no desire to see the cemetery around him – the dead grass, the ugly weeds, the ancient markers, the spawning locale of several Winchester failures. If he never saw the place again, it'd be too soon. So he shuffled from stone to stone until he finally reached the exit.

He could feel the Devil's Gate behind him, mocking him silently as he left.

As he shuffled toward the Camaro it struck him that Bobby had parked in pretty much in the exact spot Dean had put the Impala at over a year ago. It'd been here that Sammy had figured things out for himself, figured out that he'd died and that Dean had made a deal to bring him back. It was also here they celebrated the defeat of their mother's and Jess' murderer. It was here where they'd recommitted themselves to the family business. And look how far all that had gotten them. Sammy was gone. Dead. Thrown down to the pit.

Bobby had seemingly put all their stuff back into the car long before, because once Dean settled into the passenger seat they were out of there.

He didn't know where the old hunter was taking them and didn't care. Though everything out the windows was an unfocused dark blur, he kept twitching back away from it, every few minutes the realization pounding into him again and again that he had failed and Sam was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Dean opened his eyes and was immediately assaulted by the familiar sight of black rising cavern walls and a ceiling so far up it could barely be seen. The stench of fear wrapped pain wove about him, screams ringing in the distance. The bite of the restraints strung over his arms and legs sent twinges of pain down his limbs. And for the first time ever, all of this dredged up a different emotion other than panic, fear or dread. Instead what he felt was total and absolute relief.

It had all been a nightmare. A long horrible nightmare. Did the damned even dream though? It had probably been a trick of Alistair's and he'd come boast about it at any moment. The important thing though was that Sammy was safe. He was alive. And Dean was exactly where he was supposed to be to keep him that way.

He could have wept, he was so grateful. Not that he'd ever let the demon know.

And thanks to what he remembered he'd be able to persevere that much longer knowing the nightmare wasn't real.

"It's so nice to finally have you back with us, Dean."

A cold tendril raked up his back at the voice, terror flooding his every pore. He knew that voice, knew it very well, and it wasn't Alistair's.

Almost against his will, he turned his face to the left, in the direction of the voice. His brother stood there, long dark brown hair slicked back, blood and clumps of scales covering his pale skin. But his eyes weren't the clear hazel Dean was used to. Instead they were entirely black, from end to end.

"I've really been looking forward to us spending some time together again." Sam raised his hand. Nestled in it was a long ebony blade. "There are all sorts of things I want to share with you, all sorts of things I learned." He stepped toward him. "We'll never be separated again, you and I."

The cold smile on his face promised this and so very much more.

-------

Dean sat up, his stomach heaving, a strangled scream stuck in his throat. He clamped his mouth shut, eyes flickering wildly back and forth in an attempt to get his bearings, his hand automatically shifting behind him looking for a weapon. His fingers ran across a familiar handle and he pulled the long knife out to hold protectively before him.

Gloom filled the enclosed space, dark drapes lying across broad windows. Heavy snoring rumbled across the room from his left. Dean was in a bed and there was someone in another parallel to his. The form hidden beneath the covers though was too short and wide to be his brother.

Of course not. Because Sammy was dead.

Dean doubled over, the flash of unwanted knowledge feeling like a stab in his gut.

They'd failed to open the Devil's Gate. Then Bobby had driven them to some motel somewhere and tried to get him to eat and get some rest. And this was what he got for the trouble. A sparkling of hope crushed before his very eyes and then turned into his worst fears.

Grief and loss squeezed him from the inside but worse than that was the knowledge that what he'd seen in his mind's eye had every possibility of someday coming to pass. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not a _damn thing_.

His stomach heaved once more full of revulsion and denial. He staggered off the bed toward the bathroom, determined not to throw up, but also not wanting to take any chances. Who knew what Bobby thought of him now after yesterday's cry fest. All he needed to do was look like a total weakling on top of it. His friend probably wouldn't hold it against him, but that wasn't the point.

And Sammy was gone.

If he hadn't been so selfish, so desperate to have his brother with him, even if only for a little while, Sam's soul would be free and not being raked over the coals in Hell being turned into something his family would hunt.

Dean closed the bathroom door and locked it. Though it made it pitch black in there, except for a miniscule nightlight built into the wall socket, he didn't want to turn on the lights. He didn't dare risk seeing his reflection in the mirror. The face he was wearing wasn't his. And if he saw his brother's distraught face looking back at him, he didn't know what he'd do. But he was sure it wouldn't be pretty. Not feeling like he felt right then.

He groped around until he found and turned on the tap then splashed cold water on his face. It did little to help his anger and grief but it numbed his face. His face – it would never be his, not even with the fact Sam was never coming back – it just never would. And a totally irrelevant matter it was anyway. He was stuck. What was done was done and he'd never be able to undo it. Yet it still felt like he had failed, like he should be able to do something about it even now.

At this rate, he might just very well go mad.

He barked out a laugh but it wasn't his. It sounded like Sammy, it could have been Sammy – a Sam that had turned evil, dark and rotten.

Dean gripped the sink as hard as he could, trying to drive the thought back until he couldn't feel his stolen hands anymore.

Sam Winchester Was Dead.

Long Live the New Samuel Winchester!

Dean glanced up and with the poor lighting he could only see a vague form staring back. Should he change and _be_ Sam? Only Bobby knew the truth. And if he tried hard enough, he was sure he could convince him otherwise -- temporary insanity or some such. Because who knew Sam better than he did? Sometimes he thought he knew his brother better than his brother knew himself.

How hard would it honestly be? Hadn't he pretended he was a chip off the old block for his whole life? Wearing his father's coat, driving his father's car, embracing his father's music. Doing the same with Sam but just taking it a little further shouldn't be a problem. He had the body and that was normally the hardest bit to pull off.

But even if he fooled the world, would it be enough? Would it be enough to fool _himself_?

He grabbed the amulet hanging off his neck and squeezed already knowing the answer.

Dean wanted to die. But even that was denied him. Because to kill himself would be to kill Sam's body. And while he may be responsible for a lot of things, that would not be one of them.

Head hanging low, he shut the water off and left the bathroom.

Dean stared at the gloom shrouded cookie cutter motel room, at their duffels, the ratty table and TV. Things he and Sam had shared their whole lives, their only constants aside from the Impala and their father. Motel rooms were Winchester gypsy wagons in a way. All different yet all the same. _Theirs_. But now they were just his. Their image and the feelings tied to them soiled as their home in Kansas had been soiled. Spoiled by violent death. He didn't belong here anymore. And he wouldn't be here one moment longer than he had to.

He walked silently to the room's front door and let himself out.

The sunshine blinded him, making blink back furiously as the brightness hurt his eyes. His bare feet burned on the sun warmed concrete. He stared around him at the mostly empty parking lot filled with worn white lines, the dark asphalt looking melted in places as the heat rose up off of it and caused a shimmering mirage. Though he had seen this very thing hundreds if not thousands of times, today it felt alien, make believe. Would the whole world unravel if he just quit believing in it?

He sat down on the motel room's lone step and tried to do just that.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The sun had gone a long way over in its daily arc by the time Bobby found him. Looked like the sun didn't much care how much he decided it didn't exist, it would still do as it had always done – Sam or no Sam.

Dean heard the door open behind him but in no way acknowledged it. He just continued staring at the grass lining the sidewalk counting the blades. Whenever the wind blew he lost count and he would start all over again. Loads better than thinking.

"Hey…"

Dean sighed at the hesitation he heard in the greeting. He wasn't fragile. Much… "You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

Bobby gave a snort. "Sorry to disagree, but I've been around enough to know that your definition of 'fine' doesn't match the rest of ours."

Dean flinched at the word 'ours'. He knew who it included, and it didn't really anymore. "I don't plan on doing anything stupid either. This bod doesn't belong to me, even if I can't give it back."

Bobby snorted again. "Well, your definition of 'stupid' also leaves a lot to be desired."

When his friend's hand touched him lightly on the shoulder as he sat down next to him and squeezed, Dean's throat clamped shut and it was as if his emotions got picked up and shook all over then thrown back. Breathing was suddenly hard and he flailed internally trying to keep hold of himself. He would _not_ fall apart again!

Dean stood up abruptly and almost wept at the loss of contact but he just couldn't afford it. "I'd, I'd like to go as soon as we could manage it." He didn't have the courage to look at his friend. He didn't dare see Bobby's own grief and pity. It would throw him over the edge and he might never stop falling. Having him there was enough.

"Sure. Sure. If that's what you want."

They were on the road less than thirty minutes later.

Dean read every billboard, every sign, every mile marker. He mouthed the lyrics of Metallica songs over and over. Anything and everything to distract himself, to not think, to keep the images of what had happened to him and were now happening to Sam at bay. To try and not remember his brother was no more.

Then he spotted a young doe nibbling on some grassy shoots as they made a turn. A smile plastered itself on his face as he automatically turned in his seat to bring Sam's attention to it, knowing his brother would freak and be pleased to no end. The smile fractured and died, the pain stabbing deep, as his gaze landed on Bobby and his brain reminded him once again that Sam was dead.

He stared only at the dash the rest of the way back.

When they got to the salvage yard, Dean found he didn't feel much of anything this time around upon seeing it. Twilight was just deepening into night and the darkness settled over everything the same as it had over his heart. Sam wasn't with them, so there was nothing to celebrate, no teasing to be had, nothing to look forward to. He would never be with them, which just made everything else so much useless dribble.

Following Bobby's insistent promptings he helped get the stuff out of the car and into the house. Though most of the time when he and his brother stayed here they took up the floor and couch in Bobby's study/living room, Bobby led him instead to an upstairs bedroom. While the few times he'd taken a peek into any of these rooms they'd all been filled to the gills with books and 'stuff' this one had been cleared out and prepped for people. A long metal framed bed took up the corner near a window, a beat up chest of drawers with a slightly tarnished mirror on the room's other side. The miniscule closet had even been emptied to give the guest a place to hang things.

Bobby hadn't had the time to do squat since Dean came back, so he must have specifically done this for Sam. And now it was his. Something else he'd stolen from his brother. It made it very hard to step inside, but he did it anyway.

"I know you're tired, but why don't you join me downstairs after you get settled in here?" Bobby didn't come into the room, instead hovering around the doorway.

Dean shrugged, not caring either way, sleep the farthest thing from his mind at the moment. "Sure…"

After Bobby left, he just dumped his duffel on the floor and threw his jacket toward the bottom of the bed then just stood there and stared for a while. It touched him that the old hunter seemed to have gone out of his way to find a bed long enough to accommodate his brother's tall frame. Once he'd hit seventeen, Sammy had pretty much had little choice but to scrunch up his body to sleep, none of the beds at the motels ever long enough to accommodate him.

Shaking his head Dean left the room, already deciding he would spend little if anytime there. Just like the body and the clothes he wore, it didn't belong to him, no matter what Bobby said.

Coming down the stairs, he noticed it was pretty bright. Every light in the place seemed to have been turned on throughout the house. He wondered what was going on and for a half second was tempted to maybe not make an appearance after all. But he'd said he would come down. He'd told Bobby he'd help him. He couldn't run away from all this like the last time. There was nowhere else and nothing else to do…

He found his friend in his study sitting at the couch. A couple of tall glasses had been placed on the cleaned off coffee table, a just opened bottle of Gilbert Hadrian Black Scotch Whiskey standing invitingly next to them. The moment Bobby spotted him, he grabbed the bottle and started to pour.

"Take a load off." He held a filled glass out for him. "Figured we deserved a little something to dull the edges off of this god-awful mess."

Dean took the offered glass saying nothing and sat on the edge of the far end of the couch, staring at the amber liquid. He was sure just one glass wouldn't be enough to dull out any of it. He took a sip and inwardly followed the burn as it made its way down to his stomach.

They sat together in silence, drinking, Bobby refilling their glasses when either one of them got low.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me." The buzz was starting to ring nicely inside Dean's head. Sammy didn't get drunk too often or drink all that much hard liquor for that matter. As fast as this stuff was hitting him, he could see why. His brother's tolerance was way lower than Dean was used to. This could be good…

Bobby glanced over at him, his cheeks splotchy red. "Actually, in a manner of speaking, you could kind of say that's true."

Dean looked over and stared, the thought of Bobby trying to get him drunk for a come on making him bark a laugh. "Dammit, Bobby, you know I don't swing that way." The whole concept was so ludicrous it was funny. Sam would have shit a brick.

Bobby nodded, elbows on knees, staring into his glass. "I know you don't. I also know you hate talking about yourself, but right now talking might be the best thing for you."

"What? About Sammy?" Dean shook his head. "About how if he appeared in front of me right here right now I'd pop him one? How I'm gonna miss and want to kick the son of a bitch for the rest of my miserable life?" He took a long sip. "Talking about that won't do squat."

"No. That's not it." Bobby still wasn't looking at him.

Dean gave an unamused grunt. "There's nothing else." Nothing he cared about anyway.

"There's your time downstairs…"

It was as if most of the alcohol just up and evaporated out of his system. Suddenly he felt stone cold sober. This was it. The shoe was gonna drop. This was where Alistair came out from behind curtain number two and told him this had all been so much fun but Dean had a previous appointment down at Purgatory Summer Camp and he was late. And by the way, Sammy was staying. A two for one special.

The seconds ticked by, the sound coming off the old clock in the study pounding as loud as thunder.

The walls remained solid. Dean was still trapped inside Sam's body. There was no stench of sulfur or a wicked laugh announcing any unwelcomed visitors. Dean's throat though remained swollen shut.

"We've all seen combat. We've all gotten used to the life and the stress of it. We all find ways to detox and let it go as best we can." Bobby was still crouched forward only staring at the glass in his hands. "But what you went through this time, Dean, it's different. This was literal Hell. There will be PTSD's. You can count on it. If anything, you're probably already suffering from them. Nightmares, hypersensitivity making you twitch at the slightest breeze, flashbacks, thinking there's a demon hiding behind every closet…"

Dean felt the hackles rise along the back of his neck. It was one thing for him to know he was having PTSD's, it was a whole other to realize he wasn't the only one.

"And before you say it, yeah, I know, everyone deals with these things differently. But for torture and abuse, talking about it, having someone listen, and believe what you're saying, it's supposed to help. It's supposed to be worth the difficulty of making yourself talk about it." Bobby glanced his way but only for a second. "I know you're not into that type of thing. Heck, neither am I. Hence the booze."

"Bobby…"

His friend went on as if he hadn't heard him. "Figured the sooner the better, if you know what I mean. We got a lot of moving forward we gotta do and the longer we just sit the harder it's gonna be to get going."

Dean drank down the remainder of his glass in one big gulp. He almost choked on it. "Bobby, I already told you about Hell."

His friend shook his head. "No. You didn't. Not really."

Dean stood up feeling oddly cornered. Yet there was nowhere to run. You couldn't hide from your own mind, no matter how hard you tried. Even when you thought it was buried, and buried deep, there were side effects. But maybe he could gloss over it. "There's really nothing to tell. It's bad, okay? _Real_ bad. Worse than anything you can imagine."

He grabbed the bottle off the coffee table just to have something to do and refilled his glass. Flickers of ugly images played behind his eyeballs. "You can't die. So anything they want to do to you is game. And they're all about the _games_." The bitterness dripped off him in waves and he couldn't hold it back at all. A flush of hate wove up through the alcohol. He heard the glass crack in his hand. "And the worst of them, the worst of them is Alistair…and I was his pet project."

Dean threw his glass at the nearest wall and watched the pieces and booze fly everywhere with angry satisfaction. "He said I was his pupil. Told me what every single thing he'd do was for before he did it. I know more about hurting the human body than I do about killing creatures anymore. And I could go on and on and share all the gory details, if _that's_ what you're looking for. Every single scream he squeezed out of me – and there were plenty. I could list every piece of flesh he cut off of me and flaunted in front of my face.

"But that'd just be the beginning, because there's more," he added with splattering hostility, the anger, the hatred inside him not caring who the target was as long as there was one. "Are you sure you _want me to go there_?"

He turned on Bobby his words more of an accusation than a question.

Bobby hadn't moved, still with his elbows on his knees and an empty glass nestled in his hands. Though his cap was pulled low, Dean could still see part of his face. And what he saw glimmering in his friend's beard and continuing on to fall onto his hands and legs shocked him. They were tears. Loads of them.

The realization of what he was seeing snuffed Dean's anger away. Bobby didn't want to hear this, he wanted to hear _none_ of it, yet there he sat trying to facilitate this for Dean, willing to hear it for his sake – HIS! But why? Dean wasn't worth it and he knew it. They both did, right?

And it occurred to him right then and there that maybe Bobby had spent way too much time thinking about what Hell had been like for him, how he might be taking everything Dean said and adding it to what he thought was probably happening to Sammy right now. No one knew more about demons and devils than Bobby. So more than anyone else out there the old hunter knew what things were likely to be like there. Yet here he sat encouraging Dean to unburden himself to make things easier for _him_.

He sat back down in a clump, weighed by Bobby's sacrifice and not sure exactly how to respond to it, but knowing he'd hate himself if he wasted it. "I wasn't the only one there. There were hundreds, thousands, all being put through the wringer every day. Like the place was a giant machine with only one purpose. Except, I'm not sure if those working it even know what it is." Alistair had called it his great symphony. The demon's own spin on what Hell was about. Dean had fought not to add to it, looking for anything and everything he could to defy his captors despite the fact there was no escape -- despite the fact that it was all meaningless.

"There was one thing that was odd. One thing that that bastard only did for me and I didn't understand it. Every day, once he was through with his _lessons_, he'd give me a choice – I could stay on the rack or choose to have another take my place…" Just voicing it out loud gave him chills. Dean ran his now too long hands over his face. "It was important to them somehow. That I pick, that is. But I didn't, I hadn't. I just told him to shove it each and every time. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction, no way no how, I don't care how long they asked. But Sammy, Sammy is Alistair's now."

And that made him more afraid than anything.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dean didn't remember much of what else he might have said that night. He and Bobby just kept talking and drinking till they passed out. Ended up being the longest stint of sleep Dean had been able to manage before or since. And though it didn't really make anything truly better, it hadn't hurt, and some of the baggage seemed to weigh just a little less than it used to.

Each day that followed didn't improve much. Sleep was sporadic and never for long. He would either dream of Hell or Sam or both. He tried not to disrupt Bobby's set routine, so he spent a lot of time out in the salvage yard doing a lot of nothing. Despair and pain would grab him at their whim and during those times he was grateful he was alone, for they would cripple him and open flood gates within him he never even knew existed. Many of the salvage yards metal residents suffered at his hands, convenient scapegoats for his anger, guilt, and uselessness.

The two of them ate their meals together, Bobby always tracking him down for those, but neither had much to say, though after that long soul wrenching night, the silences never felt awkward. Food didn't appeal as it once used to. What was the point of stuffing his face if he couldn't use it to try to gross Sammy out?

Drinking, despite Sam's seemingly lower tolerance to the stuff, was very tempting, except every last bit of booze seemed to virtually disappear from Bobby's home. He wasn't sure if it was just because they'd gotten so plastered and he'd liked it, or because Bobby was afraid one or the other of them would decide to use it as a crutch. Dean could have gone to get some, but that meant leaving, seeing people, interacting with the _world_, and that was more than he was willing to do for himself, let alone just to get a drink.

So he drifted along. Some days he shaved, others he didn't. It was hard, very hard to have Sam's face looking back at him in the mirror, giving him weird sparks of momentary delusion and hope followed by anger, despair, and depression – that wasn't getting any easier at all. But he also knew his brother preferred his ugly mug shaved. So when he could bring himself to do it, he did it. He did it for him.

He never asked Bobby about what was going on 'outside' and his friend never volunteered the information though Dean was positive the old hunter was keeping abreast of what was going on out there – he couldn't help himself, it was what Bobby did. But his silence suited Dean just fine. Here, it was like nothing and no one else existed and he could ignore the world as much as he liked. All except for the one thing he couldn't escape, the one thing which plagued him like nothing else, the knowledge that his brother was dead.

Then Bobby surprised him at breakfast one morning.

He laid a large red toolbox down on the table with a resounding clunk.

Dean glanced up at him from where he'd been shoving his scrambled eggs around from one end of the plate to the other, debating whether to have at them or not. "Uh, I'm not eating that."

"It's not for eating, idjit. It's for working."

Dean just watched him, not bothering to move Sam's growing bangs out of the way, still pushing his eggs around, not rising to the bait.

Bobby opened the toolbox. It contained several levels, which his friend took out one by one. All the tools had seen use but were clean and in pristine condition. "I believe in helping family, but don't believe in freeloading. Time you started earning your keep around here, toots."

He stared at the old hunter intently. "You're actually serious about this." There was a flutter of something inside him, but Dean paid it no mind.

"As a heart attack." Bobby gave him a half grin. "You can start by tuning up the Camaro. Then you can begin casing the yard for parts you can salvage, clean then up, add them to inventory, post them on Ebay, and so forth. It'll be good for you to have something to do."

"I guess…" Dean found himself frowning. Now that Bobby brought it up, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to help around the place a little. The more he found to do the less thinking time would be available. And there was plenty he'd rather not think about. A distraction would be a nice change.

Bobby put everything back inside and shoved the toolbox in his direction. Dean stood up staring at it, the rest of his breakfast forgotten.

"Go on. It won't bite."

"As if…" He grabbed the handle then gingerly lifted the heavy box. Before he knew it, he was stepping outside.

Boots crunching on the gravel, Dean headed for the SS. He spotted Baby out of the corner of his eye still in the same spot he'd parked her since before the fool's errand to the Devil's Gate. He stared at her long and hard as he opened up the Camaro's hood. "I'm just helping out, Bobby, Baby. I know I haven't too good to you lately, but when I'm done, I promise you're next, okay?"

It was just too damn easy to think he was all alone in this mess. That what he did or didn't do didn't matter or affect anyone else. But it wasn't true. Maybe he should try to remember that.

Dark brows furrowed, Dean opened the toolbox and got to work.

With the sun at his back, bent over an engine, tools in his hands, and the smell of grease weaving around him – it was nice. Real nice. He'd not been sure nice would ever be something he'd experience again, to be honest. Yet here it was. It gave him hope.

He'd been under the hood a good couple of hours, tuning and tweaking whether the parts needed it or not, just wallowing in doing something he was good at when his elbow bumped against something cold. Glancing over, he spotted a beer shoved in a holder that hung off the corner of the engine. Dean stared at it totally surprised, not having ever noticed Bobby come by. Glancing quickly around him and seeing no one, looked like his friend had come and gone with him none the wiser.

Turning his attention back to the beer, his throat told him it was thirsty so he picked it up and took a long swig. The cool bitter taste rolled down his tongue like nirvana. Beer and working on cars on a nice day. It didn't get much better.

Just like the day he'd told Sammy he needed to learn how to take care of Baby. His brother had looked so shocked at that. Sam had tried real hard to learn too though cars had never been one of his interests. It'd meant an awful lot to Dean.

And in the end it amounted to nothing. Sammy would never need to care for Baby, would he?

The sun abruptly felt too hot. The beer soured in his stomach. And the raging unexpected pain of loss came back and tried to swallow him whole.

Dean staggered away from the car dropping the unfinished beer onto the gravel.

This would get better, right? All those songs and sissy poems couldn't have it all wrong, could they? And then there were the platitudes – Time heals all wounds – Think happy thoughts – Don't worry be happy. Hell, it wasn't like he didn't know about loss. Been having to deal with that since he was four.

You weren't supposed to look at the loss itself, at the betrayal of their leaving you behind, but rather remember the dead fondly, think only of the good times. Also had to keep in mind about going through the stages of grief. Some of that would happen, right? He'd come to grips with this at some point, _right_?

"_Then why the hell doesn't it feel like it_!" He stared up at the sky as if the answers might be there but there were none. He'd thought he'd seen God's Will, was pretty sure the guy was out there, but it still didn't mean God listened. It didn't mean that if He was really out there that He gave a shit. Cause if He cared, if God _cared_, He would have never let Sammy make the trade in the first place. Free will his ass!

Dean stared in the direction of the toolbox and spotted a heavy, mean looking wrench. It called to him and before he realized it, he'd picked it up. He glanced at Bobby's Camaro, then at Baby, and felt immediately guilty, his poor car the recipient of past frustrations when his father had passed. And he wasn't sure he'd ever really made it up to her. He wasn't about to make it worse. So instead he went deeper into the salvage yard looking for a likely victim he'd not whacked on before on which to vent some of his pent up rage.

Everything else would have to wait a while…


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Dean came in out of the rising summer heat looking forward to grabbing some cold water from the fridge. He'd been keeping busy the last few days looking, and occasionally finding, nuggets of gold amidst the junk in the yard. He was grateful for the work as it was proving quite the daily workout. Just getting around the clunkers and moving things about took more out of you than one would think, which helped him pass out pretty much into exhausted oblivion at night. He'd still been unable to get a truly good night's sleep, but a few dead hours were better than nothing.

All the work had also helped him get used to Sammy's slightly different proportions. After the first few scraped knuckles and smacked elbows he'd wanted to fix that in a hurry. The body wasn't his, would never _be_ his as far as he was concerned, but he had to learn to live in it. At least enough that he wouldn't get it stupidly hurt. You always took better care of things you borrowed than those that belonged to you anyway. It was just the way things were.

Major reason hunting was out. There was too much risk of injury.

Or so he kept telling himself.

Bobby had made no noises yet, and from what little Dean had picked up on the goings on with the world at large, miraculously not much was happening out there despite the fact Lilith was romping freely across the countryside, so he wasn't worrying too much about it.

He grabbed the towel hanging off the oven's door and wiped at the sweat pooling at his collar, Sammy's dark hair twisted up in curls more than usual in the humidity laced heat. It'd bugged the crap out of him at first, feeling something weird and foreign brushing against his neck all the time. Now he hardly noticed it. Sam's growing bangs though were another matter entirely.

How his brother had put up with the damn things all these years was a total mystery. They got all in his way and sometimes even poked his eyeball. What was up with that? Nice and short hair kept out of your way. Though he had to admit he couldn't picture Sam's face with it that way. Be as bad as trying to picture his old body with dangling bangs. Ugh.

Putting the towel back, Dean reached up for one of the plastic glasses in the closest green cabinet to the right of the sink.

The wave of cold that swept out from opening the fridge felt glorious. He reached in for the pitcher and spotted some butterscotch pudding cups in the back. To his surprise, he was actually tempted to take one. He could almost taste the sweet candy flavor playing over his tongue.

Deciding not to question the impulse, he grabbed the pudding and put it on the counter then poured his water and closed the fridge before he could be tempted by anything else in there. It'd be nice if his appetite was coming back. Food was one of the few joys in life one could count on, but it'd not done much for him lately. Things might be looking up.

He took his filled glass and pressed it to the side of his still sweating face as he leaned back against the kitchen sink. Dean closed his eyes for a moment just wallowing in the coolness, feeling the condensing water mingling with his perspiration. Having deprived himself long enough, he then took a lengthy swallow of the cold water. It was heavenly.

When he came back up for air, his gaze immediately homed in on the pudding cup on the counter. He wanted it. He definitely wanted it. Its purpose in life would be to fill his stomach. And it would fulfill that purpose as soon as he figured out where to get a spoon.

After rifling through a couple of drawers, Dean was armed to do battle. Snagging the pudding from the counter, he made for the small table nestled in the kitchen. For expediency's sake, he used his foot to pull out Bobby's chair. He was about to thump his body down on it and do combat with the pudding's plastic covering, when his gaze ran across the calendar on Bobby's kitchen wall. Prior to this point, he'd not paid the thing much attention, it normally being behind him when they ate. Yet what he saw now grabbed his notice and held it.

It wasn't the picture of the golden field with the big tree and the dangling swing from one of its branches that gave him pause. No, it was the bottom half of the sheet, the one with the squares of dates. The sheet showed the month had changed to June and several days had already been crossed out of it. Today was the 10th.

June… 10th…

Dean felt the blood flow out of his face in a rush. The spoon fell forgotten from suddenly numb fingers with a soft clang, the cup following soon after. The container split when it hit the linoleum floor and sprayed the golden colored contents in a widening arc that went unnoticed. He half fell into the chair his legs no longer able to support him.

He stared and stared at the inoffensive piece of paper, its message pounding into him over and over and over again. Chilling horror built up and overflowed with each stroke crossed out square. Though his mouth opened but no sound came out, his soul was screaming.

Sam had now been in Hell longer than he had.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Dean gritted his teeth and put his weight behind the wrench. The half rusted nut cried out as the pressure built then suddenly gave in. As the wrench dived forward, he wasn't fast enough and got his fingers trapped between the tool and the bracket he'd been working on.

Pain rushed up his fingers into his arm making the whole thing throb. "Fuck!"

He backed up cradling his arm and kicked at the Dodge Aries' drooping bumper. "You mother fucking piece of rusted fucking ass fucking junk!"

"I must say, you've always seemed to have such a knack for making friends. Looks like you haven't lost your touch."

Dean spun around at the unfamiliar voice, automatically letting go of his arm to reach back behind him for the knife he always carried there. To his right, leaning against a stack of clunkers was a cute, petite brunette in a form fitting black leather jacket and jeans. There was an amused half smile on her face.

His second brain twitched agreeing that she was a nice little number. Unfortunately Dean had no idea who she was or why she was there. Add in the fact nobody usually visited this place plus her acting as if she knew him, and he wasn't reassured that this would be someone he wanted to make some magic with. Besides, the tools weren't his own. Dean flexed his injured hand even as he slid sideways to give himself some space. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Quite lax around here, isn't it? The house might have some protections but the rest of the yard doesn't. You should probably do something about that."

Dean's grip tightened on the handle of the demon killing knife as he brought it out into view. "I'm not going to ask again. Either answer my questions or get the hell out." He took a deep breath tensing and relaxing at the same time, making ready to launch into combat if necessary. He also shoved a reminder into the back of his mind to talk to Bobby about doing something to defend the place. Maybe they could take a cue from Samuel Colt and put an iron pentagram about the yard. Bet that'd be a kick in the pants to any wondering demons.

"Before I get to that, I'd like to show you something." With slow measured movements, she reached inside her jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it, then still moving very slowly, stepped forward to place it on top of the engine Dean had been struggling with. She made sure to keep the car as much as she could between them and once she placed the paper moved back to her previous position.

Not taking his attention off her, Dean stepped forward and used his still throbbing hand to snatch the paper up. It was a form from an out of state hospital – a patient medical information form for a Jane Doe. "WTF?"

"Fried her brain with alcohol and drugs but good. Got found in an alley somewhere." The brunette sounded amused again. "Only the machines were keeping her alive – the soul was long gone. The moment they pulled the plug the empty shell stopped working. That's when it became mine. Squatter's rights."

Dean stared at her, the sinking feeling growing that he knew exactly who he was talking to. "And why the hell would I care, Ruby?"

She flicked a careless strand of hair away from her face. "You said you wouldn't deal with me if I went around stealing people's lives or bodies, right? So, I did as you asked and here I am."

He glanced down at the piece of paper again. There it was in black and white – the patient had been clinically brain dead. And if they'd pulled the plug and the body died… There should be no one in it. So no foul play there. But why go to the trouble? "You don't even like me. Are you really that desperate?"

"_Yes_." Her eyes grew very intense. "There are things I want but I can't get them on my own. I need help. And no matter what it does to my pride I will deal with or do anything I have to to get my way. Just like you would."

"Sure…" She was right. He'd taken that road more than once himself. But there was still one little problem with her scenario. "Only, too bad for you, you've got nothing I want. So I'm afraid you went through all that trouble for nothing. Take a hike. And the sooner the better."

Ruby shook her head, returning to her seemingly relaxed position against the stack of cars. "But I do have something you want."

Dean snorted. "Like hell you do. You already admitted you can't bring Sam back. There's nothing _else_ I want." He took a menacing step toward her. "Get out. Before I decide you never leave here."

She went on ignoring his threat. "I may not be able to get Sam out of the pit, but Lilith can." She let that sink in for a moment. "The powers buried in Sam's altered DNA can make you more powerful than her. They can let you _capture_ her. Force her to deal and then let you kill her so she can't take it back. And before you go off and tell me you can do all that with that little pig sticker, _which I gave you_, by the way, remember the debacle in Indiana. She won't ever let you get that close to her that easily ever again."

They'd gotten lucky that time and Dean knew it. The trick with the sprinkler systems wouldn't work a second time. He was pretty sure they'd be disabled just about everywhere Lilith made her home these days. And if they couldn't cut her off from most of her kling-ons, he and Bobby wouldn't be enough to take them on – not with just the one knife between them. Not that he'd planned to. Not that he'd even contemplated the idea of going after Lilith. Not while using Sam's bod.

But to find a way to have a chance -- a _real_ chance? Could he pass that up? The thought of it itched and itched hard. But this was Ruby and she was a stinking demon. Demons couldn't be trusted. Demons lied. He'd been pretty much trying to pound that into Sam's head for the last year, ever since they met the bitch. "What do you get out of this? Why is Lilith getting rubbed out so important to you?"

Ruby stared at him for a long time, her expression unreadable, as if she were trying to see how far to trust him before saying anything.

A demon deciding whether to trust a Winchester, that was rich. "I don't have all day, you know."

That got him a raised brow. "Right, because you're so very busy and all." She turned her face away from him and stared off into the bright afternoon sky. "I lost someone very close to me a long time ago. It's something that never leaves you, never goes away. I think of him _every single day_."

Dean looked away, recoiling not only from the emotion in her voice but also from what she was saying. Sam's loss was with him every minute, almost every stinking second. To hear someone say it would never get better, never go away – it hurt. Not that he deserved it to ever grow less. Not that he deserved to ever forget how his selfishness had made things so very much worse than they would have ever been if he'd left things alone, but still...

"Lilith was a part of it." She shook her head as if throwing off unpleasant memories. "I want to tear her heart out like mine was torn from me. The bitch has to die. And there's no one strong enough to do that but Azazel's Chosen. Just the fact Sam was able to confront her and survived should tell you that. Lilith ran from Indiana with her tail between her legs. It was the one thing I could hold onto while she and her pets played with me downstairs. The one thing that brought me hope! I'd happily die if it meant she'd go down with me."

Ruby finally glanced his way again and he could see tears glinting in her eyes and a fierce determination he'd only seen shine that brightly in his father. He didn't know how much truth was in the shovelful she'd just given him, but of one thing he was certain – Ruby wanted Lilith dead and in a bad way.

But for her to get what she wanted, Dean would have to do what he'd forbidden his brother. He'd have to willingly become a freak – okay, a different type of freak. Dean had been one all his life and proud of it. Sure it made him and his family outcasts of a sort, but they saved people. Yet for this type of freak out, he'd need to tap into Sam's mutated genes. And just thinking about doing such a thing made his blood run cold. Being psychic was one thing. He'd come to accept that about his brother, mostly. But demon tampered? That was a whole other ballgame in his book. And Sammy using whatever it was they'd done to him? That was one dark road. One he knew his father had feared so much he'd rather Sam died than have him follow it.

The thought of his father came bitter and sad. How much _had_ he known? And for how long? Never in all their time growing up did Dean suspect Sam might be anything more than his little brother. Their father had treated Sam just like Dean, sometimes harder, if truth be told. But it'd been out of love, to make sure Sam could survive the things that were out there. No, whatever their father had figured out, it had to have been after Sam left for Stanford, after he and Dean started going more and more their separate ways. Maybe even in that long year when their father was hunting for Azazel, when he'd finally figured out what had killed Mom and had ditched the two of them to keep them safe.

Dean's fist coiled at his side, his fingernails digging into the skin. Thinking about this crap would get him nowhere. He locked gazes with Ruby. "No. Can't go there. Get out."

He expected her to get angry. To scream or threaten. She did none of these things.

"I'll give you some time to think about it." Ruby pushed away from the wall of metal. "If you love your brother half as much as I think you do, you won't want to chuck this opportunity aside so lightly. Do you honestly think you can live with yourself if there was a way to fix all this and you didn't take it? To have a true honest chance to rescue Sam and get rid of Lilith at the same time, that would be worth a little risk, don't you think?"

She didn't wait for him to answer but instead turned her back on him and walked away.

Her words circled round and round inside Dean's head for long after she'd gone.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Dean rubbed at his chin for the tenth time in the last few minutes. He speared some peas onto his fork, not really seeing them, just doing it for something to do. He'd already cut the beautifully cooked steak into bite sized pieces, but had yet to eat one.

It was a chance… Hadn't he been dying for just a chance?

He shook his head and stared at Sammy's long arms trying to think of something, anything else.

Who was he kidding? This was never going to work.

He shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable, and tried to focus on the meal in front of him as he took a deep breath. It honestly smelled wonderful. Peas, a juicy thick steak, baked potato with the works. Bobby had outdone himself. Yet there it sat in front of him uneaten, growing cold, his appetite nowhere to be found, his mouth not even salivating though it should have been. Bobby was quite a good cook when he put his mind to it, and having home cooked meals were a treat Dean would have been normally all over. He knew his flip-flopping appetite hadn't given Bobby's efforts the justice and proper attention they deserved and he was sorry about that, but there also didn't seem to be much he could do about it.

Besides, there were things on his mind. Or rather things he was trying not to let be on his mind. And it really wasn't working. Could you blabber in your own head? Or was this but the first sign of him about to lose it? Again.

"Something on your mind, Dean?"

Damn the old guy could be scary sometimes. Dean glanced up at him and then looked away. "Maybe…" Should he? Could he? He'd said no. There should be nothing to discuss. Right?

"Wanna talk about it?" Bobby put his fork down, his own dinner also looking somewhat neglected.

Dean gave a half shrug. "Probably. Problem is I've no idea how to do that. Or if I should do that." He sighed and leaned back in the chair, bringing the front legs off the floor. With Sam's longer legs it was super easy. He wanted advice, craved it, really. He knew what was the right decision, had already _made it_, but Ruby's parting words and that bloody itch had kept at him all afternoon trying to drive him mad no matter how much he tried to ignore them. What if she was right? What if he _could_ fix things? Wasn't the mere possibility worth some risk? Unlike blowing off the doors to the Devil's Gate, he didn't actually know what would happen with this. But, if he was right and using Sam's powers was bad and he damned himself, wouldn't that just mean there'd be two Winchesters in Hell instead of just one?

Bobby pulled off his green cap and scratched at his thinning hair. "How about just blabbing it out and see what happens?"

Dean gave a long sigh. He was getting as bad as his brother on those lately. "Okay."

Hesitating another moment, he let the chair drop forward with a loud clump. His gaze locked with his friend's and then he let the mess come out of his mouth in a rush. "Ruby came by and paid me a visit. She says I can use Sam's powers to capture Lilith and then squeeze her to let Sam out of Hell. Once he's out then we'd gank her, destroying evil and keeping her from sending either me or Sam back." He took a deep breath. "Basically she says I have the means to change the rules of our own suck ass Kobayashi Maru so that everybody wins."

Bobby stared back, his eyes growing wider and wider by the moment. "Oh."

"Yeah." Dean looked away and rubbed at his chin again. "Except that that's the 'it works perfectly' version. And doesn't include things like the possibility of my tainting my soul by using Sam's freako powers. Or failing and getting a new one ripped in Sam's body, or who knows what else."

Bobby's voice dropped low. "What did you tell her?"

Dean sighed again. "I gave her a flat out 'no'. But then she left me with that little bombshell and that she'd be back for my decision tomorrow." He leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table, staring at his hands. "Problem is, now that she's brought it up, I think we could have a shot at this."

"Dean, she's a demon. Demons lie."

"Don't you think I know that? Haven't forgotten it, not even for a minute. But still, what if it worked? What if I could get Sammy out?" Just saying the words sent his hopes soaring. A chance to make things right again… "I sold my soul for him before. Would taking a chance with his powers really be all that different?"

Dean glanced up and noticed Bobby staring at the table. Then his friend shoved his unfinished dinner out of the way. Bobby shook his head. "I worked with her on the new Colt. She knows a lot of shit we don't, I'll give her that. But she's secretive and a tighter set of lips I have never run across. You probably won't even know what you're dealing with as she pulls you along."

Dean nodded. "I know that. So I figured maybe you could be like my conscience? Keep an impartial eye on the whole mess and if it looks like I'm going somewhere I shouldn't, put a stop to it." He brought out his Colt 1911 and put it on the table. "By whatever means you thought necessary."

The old hunter ogled at the weapon and all it implied. "I'm not…I'm not sure I could do that."

"It won't leave me alone. Bobby, I don't think I can let this go by." His gaze sought the hunter's own. "If I let a chance to get Sammy free slip past me without even trying…" Dean heard his voice crack with his need, but there wasn't much he could do about it. His skin felt prickly and his gut was in a knot, but if he couldn't be honest with Bobby, what was the point? "I…I don't think… Hell, I know I won't be able to live with myself after that. I have to at least try and I really need you to have my back on this…in case..."

Bobby looked away his eyes troubled. "Dean I…"

"Please, Bobby. _Please_. I'm begging you here."

His friend didn't look back at him but nodded his head slowly.

Dean felt his heart soar.

They would do this thing. He would set Sammy free.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"There's going to be some rules." Dean stared hard at Ruby.

The demon just continued to sit on the hood of the rusting Plymouth as if he'd not said anything she didn't already expect. It rubbed a nerve.

Ruby had shown up ten minutes before with an eager look on her face. She hadn't even asked him for an answer, just assumed what it would be. He'd liked that even less. But there wasn't much he could do about it at this point. He would put up with her and a whole lot more if it meant setting Sammy free from torment.

Dean rubbed his palms over his jeans, his hands moist with sweat. He'd never really paid much attention to the fact Sam was a hand sweater. The chewed on nails had been bad enough, but this was a pain in the ass. Not that he'd complain about it out loud…often. A gift was a gift, no matter how much he hadn't wanted to receive it. "Bobby will be supervising all your training."

Ruby seemed to consider this then nodded. "What else?"

"We catch you at any kind of a lie and we're quits. Plus I'll gank your ass to boot." He pulled on the bottom of Sam's jean jacket, not quite satisfied with how the thing sat on him. He really wanted his leather jacket. But the sleeves were too short and the shoulders too narrow now. It'd been bugging the heck out of him all morning that he couldn't wear it. Heck, he'd even frowned at the clothes he had available, not having even bothered to notice them before. He just didn't like looking like a college geek. He'd have to do something about it, and soon.

Maybe the thought of actually having something to work on to get Sammy back was making stupid things seem important again. Hell, like even living.

Ruby rolled her eyes. She wasn't endearing herself to him in any way at all. God but she annoyed the shit out of him. The packaging was nice, both then and now, but the outside wasn't everything. How had Sam put up with her and her demon ass attitude for more than five minutes?

"You want me to promise?" She asked with acerbic sweetness. "To cross my heart and hope to die?"

Dean ground his teeth in annoyance, but tried not to let it show. He wasn't sure he was all that successful. "Like that would hold any weight with me at all."

Her expression soured. "Do you not want this to happen or not? Because this petty asshole attitude won't work if we're going to get anywhere." She slid off the car. "Unless you really just don't want Sam yanked out of Hell."

His hands coiled to fists at his side and for one blinding moment all he could think about was the fact he wanted her dead. He'd taken a half step forward before he was able to bring himself up short – if he killed her, Sam would have no chance at all, and he'd have proved her right on top of it. It took him another few seconds before he felt in enough control to try to speak. "If you ever _dare_ to say such a thing to my face again, I will absolutely make sure you regret it."

Her childlike face twisted with her own annoyance. "Then quit fucking around trying to see whose dick is bigger and let's get on with this!"

Dean closed his eyes and just shook himself as hard as he could. Sam's lengthening hair slapped at his face and forehead like soft admonitions. He tried his best to let go of his anger, his annoyance, and the bits of nibbling fear about the path he was taking. The bitch was right -- all this crap would get them nowhere. "_Fine_."

He turned away from her. "I'll go get Bobby. Meet us by the Impala." He waved his arm in his cars general direction off toward the front of the salvage yard. He walked rapidly to the house, his insides filled with nervousness and excitement in equal measure. If this could somehow work… But there'd be a downside. There was always a downside. And it was that shoe drop he was concerned about most of all. But if it would set Sammy free…

He swept the hair away from his face as he reached to open the back kitchen door. It was a gesture he'd seen Sam do unconsciously thousands of times. Guess it was his now. He'd honestly been considering (okay only for an hour and just because he needed some distracting while waiting for Ruby to show and trying not to think she'd just fed him a bunch of crap and never meant to come back and) giving Sam Dean's old haircut, but it'd just be wrong. Sam's body would never carry it off as good as his did for one thing. For another, and slightly more embarrassing, he just didn't think he could stand for Sam's face to look like anything but Sam's face, which included the hair. Maybe he could get away with just a trim at some point.

Paint flecked away from the peeling door as he made himself twist the knob and push it open. He knew what he was doing. Wasting time. Putting things off. Dammit, he was not scared to do this! Couldn't be. And it really wasn't the whole soul might be doomed bit… He didn't care one iota about that really. It was more the 'it won't work and Sam will be stuck in Hell forever' fear. The terrible disappointment and guilt that would come riding behind it, too. That this really was his one last and only shot. And if it failed it was over. Setting himself up to suffer through hope being cut away like a limb and left with nothing but an even deeper hole in his soul for his reward.

He stepped into the house knowing there was nothing to do but just do it. Let the final cards fall where they may. He would give this thing everything he had and more. Failure wouldn't be an option.

"Bobby, she's here."

He heard the old hunter rush to his feet before Dean made it over to the study. Guess his friend was as nervous about all this as he was. And probably as hopeful and scared out of his mind as well. Dean raised a brow when he spotted him though, noticing the hunter had changed clothes since breakfast. He still looked normal, except the cap wasn't ragged at the edges as they tended to be or even faded. He looked neater and somehow cleaner than usual, not that Bobby was ever dirty, just well worn looking. Guess his time with Ruby before when they worked on the new colt had left some kind of impression. The skank did tend to always look freshly pressed herself.

Dean popped his neck, knowing she'd just have to settle for him in worn tennis shoes and holey jeans. Fashion makeover could come later.

"Do you want me to invite her inside?" Bobby asked, sending him a half glance from beneath his cap.

"No. I don't want her getting all that comfortable till we really know how this works." Well, really, he didn't want her comfortable ever period. But that was neither here nor there. "Told her we'd meet by the Impala."

"Right." Bobby nodded and followed him as he went back the way he'd come.

Dean caught Ruby running her hand down Baby's hood, where he'd reparked her under the shade of a tree, staring at the Impala raptly. Demons weren't car aficionados, were they? He might have to put a point or two on the skank's good points list. Guess even the occasional demon could have some taste. In her black jacket and with her dark hair, he grudgingly had to admit she and Baby made quite a pair. Not that he'd ever tell her in a million years.

"Okay, Ruby. Now what?"

She turned around to face them sending a greeting nod in Bobby's direction. "Now we see just how badly you're wanting to do this."

Dean tensed not sure he liked the sound of that.

"I thought about this long and hard," she continued. "Wondered if I should just sneak it up on you and tell you after the fact or just throw it out there." She leaned against the car her gaze raptly studying them both. "Despite my better judgment, I've decided to give the two of you the benefit of the doubt and just tell you. Keep in mind though that if you can't get over this, you can't save Sam. No way, no how."

Yeah, definitely not liking where this was going. "Just tell us already. Enough melodrama."

Ruby glowered at him, but otherwise ignored his comment. "Azazel changed and marked Sam with demon infused blood." She ran a finger down her arm. "We don't just ride a host. Our essence actually coats them, becomes a part of them. They fuse together, become one. It's why the host becomes tougher. Why killing blows seem not to affect them. Because as long as the human and demon are joined, they both reap the benefits."

Dean snorted not all that sure how being made a prisoner in your own skin was reaping a benefit. It was an experience he hoped never to have happen to him – so much so he'd got tattooed with a devil's trap. Seeing both his father and brother possessed had been more than enough.

" The fused blood holds our power. And it is this very blood that Sam's special body can use against them."

"Come again?" Bobby's face was a mask of confusion. Dean was sure his looked about the same. Surely they'd misunderstood her.

Ruby leaned slightly forward. "Our blood has power in it. Demon power. It's what Azazel used to change the children. It's what changed Sam so he could be special. Think of it as the bullet for the gun. Sam's body has been shaped to carry and fire the bullet. Your mind will provide the trigger. And my blood, or that of any demon, will be the ammunition."

Blood? He'd have to drink blood? Demonic blood? The mere thought of it made him break out in hives. "How the hell do you know all this? Do you have proof of this _bullshit_?"

Ruby crossed her arms over her chest, her expression neutral. "I told you you wouldn't like it."

"Dean's got a point. How do you know all this?" Bobby sounded curious more than anything else. Dean knew better, feeling the tension coiled about him.

"Knowing things is what I specialize in," she responded smoothly. "Knowledge is power. I'm not as high on the ladder of strength and skills as some others. So I've learned to compensate."

Bobby threw Dean a look. "She did know how to replicate the Colt. She's also the one the demon killing knife came from."

Both good valid points, yet they did nothing to make this crap any easier to swallow. "Why don't you just make us two or three more of the guns? Why the need for this blood thing?"

Ruby laughed and rolled her eyes at him. "If it was so easy, Dean, I'd have done it on my own long before now. Guns and knives can be taken from you. They can then be turned _against_ you. And if you shot Lilith with one of them, you'd definitely not get the chance to force her to give Sam back. My way, you'll eventually be able to stop her in her tracks without tools or props. You'll also be able to force your will upon her and make her free Sam's soul. You'll be able to send her straight to Hell or totally destroy her after."

"But what will using this power do to Dean?" Bobby asked.

"I don't have the faintest idea." She shrugged. "Nothing like this has ever been done before. There's been no one like Sam before."

Well, there had been. There'd been a bunch of psychic kids grown and sent off to 'kill-each-other' camp. Sam just happened to be the only one left. And Dean had cheated to make it happen. "So what you're really saying is you don't actually know if it'll work."

That earned him another glare. "It will work. It _has_ to."

With that, he certainly had to agree. Because if this didn't work, he'd make her pay.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Did you drink it?"

Dean sent a sharp look in Ruby's direction. "Yes, I drank it. See?" He wiggled the empty beer bottle in her direction. "You just put one drop in there. No _biggie_. I'm not squeamish, you know."

Her stare said she believed otherwise. The skank!

They were sitting at a battered picnic table behind Bobby's main parts storage shed. The sun was high in the sky above them, watching their every move. Dean couldn't have been happier. He was sure all of this crap would have felt a lot creepier at night.

Bobby had a notebook out, sitting in a lawn chair off to the side, taking notes. Dean couldn't figure out how that could be keeping him busy, since they'd done pretty much squat. "What now?"

"Now you're going to learn how to sense a demon's essence." She gave him a slanted grin. "You can't hold onto and control something if you can't even tell it's there."

Just before he took his 'vacation', Dean didn't need to sense them, he could see them. Something about piercing the veil since he was so close to death's call. And of course, down in the pit he'd spotted their true forms as well, without a meatsuit to muddy the waters. Ugly mothers they all were too. Surely being all that close to fugly for so long would help him find it here a little better. He'd just have to see. "Okay, so teach me how already."

"This isn't a race." She didn't look at all happy with his attitude.

He didn't really give a shit. "My ass it's not. Every moment longer it takes you to teach me what I need to know and twist Lilith's arm is a second longer Sam stays in the pit. _So get on with it_."

"Dean…" Bobby scrunched forward in his chair.

Dean sighed, taking the hint. "Would you _please_ get on with it?" He tried to appear as pleasant as possible. It occurred to him right then that he actually had a very invaluable opportunity at present. He'd always been slightly jealous of Sam's puppy eyes power and his ability to make people believe anything he told them due to his honest looking face. He'd have to remember to try to learn how to exploit that while he had the chance. Could be worth a fun thing or two.

Ruby seemed to relax slightly. "All you have to do is concentrate. Will yourself to see what's there. Since this vessel is empty except for me, it shouldn't prove too difficult. If you're up to it."

Oh now she was trying to challenge him too? Sheesh. As if he needed any more incentive to get this crap done. Dean stared at Ruby where she sat two feet away from him on the wooden bench and narrowed the world and his senses to home in on her. He knew what her true form looked like. He'd also seen the demons' smoky non-corporeal form plenty of times as well.

Yet all he saw was Ruby's petite human exterior. He continued to stare, the sun glaring in his eyes and not helping one bit. A headache started building behind his eyeballs. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not. "I don't see squat."

"Keep trying." There was a flare of expectation in her voice. "It's not like you've ever tried this before. Give it time. Relax into it, don't force it. It will come."

Dean continued to stare. His gaze locked onto her boobs, which ended up being way too distracting, especially when she removed her jacket under the warming rays falling over them. He shifted his attention to her neck and shoulder, hoping those would prove a little less disturbing. His headache got worse. He didn't think it was hot enough to get heatstroke, but then again.

Then he saw it, a little dark shimmer dancing over and through her skin. As he watched, it seemed to grow and expand, almost as if the one bit were leading his vision into seeing the rest of it. It somewhat resembled what they looked like as smoke, except this was human shaped and oily looking, like a second person trying to share the body's same space. It was vague and indistinct, unlike when he could see them when his time was almost up before. It was thrilling and somewhat disturbing. "I see you."

Ruby smiled. "That's excellent." Her pleasure was almost as disturbing as seeing her true essence. "Now try to reach for it."

Dean frowned. "How?" His headache was still pounding along, but seemed to have reached a plateau. Watching her demon form undulating in and out of the human shell was starting to make him dizzy though.

"Just pretend you're reaching for it and grab it."

Yeah, right. Easy peasy. Sure… Dean raised his hand and did exactly as she suggested. As he started closing his hand on air imagining it was the oily smoke instead, his headache grew exponentially. Felt as bad as that time Andy had sent him a vision of Sam's location before all but one of the psychic kids was killed. Still, it was nothing to some of the pain he'd survived in the pit. He held on, hoping it meant that something was working.

Ruby jerked on the bench before him. He squeezed a little more and he could see her essence shift as if it were truly in his grip. This crazy ass shit worked! It thrilled and horrified him at once. Another, deeper, hidden, quivering part of him _rejoiced_. With this he would never be totally helpless before a demon ever again.

With a gasp, Dean released her, the pain way too intense to keep up with for long. He leaned forward grabbing for his head, the still resonating pain leaving him feeling weak and nauseous.

"Boy, you all right?" Bobby was suddenly at his side making sure he wouldn't tip over into the gravel.

Dean half heartedly tried to wave him off. "Yeah. I'm okay. Just hurt like a mother."

"Was it supposed to do that?"

Dean couldn't help a small smile as Bobby threw the accusing question in Ruby's direction. Sneaking a peek her way, he found her sitting as before, a very satisfied look on her face, her eyes staring hungrily at him.

"He's having to exercise pathways in his mind that have atrophied for months if not years. Think of it as muscles he's not exercised. So this isn't that much of a surprise. No pain no gain. Should get better with practice. _Lots_ of practice." She turned sideways to lean her arms and back against the edge of the picnic table. Her focus shifted to Dean. "So how about we try this again?"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Ruby had shown up fifteen minutes before with the strangest present Dean had ever been given. And it wasn't even his birthday.

Deciding not to bring it into the house in case something went wrong, they'd dragged it along to the parts shed. Some spray paint, rope, and a sturdy wooden chair later and his present was all set for him to unwrap and play with.

Ruby had disappeared the night before saying she needed to go run some errands. She'd come back mid morning with an orange colored charger and with Dean's present stowed in the trunk under a devil's trap. Seemed she'd decided he was ready to do more than just practice grabbing her essence and pushing it around.

Problem was he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Sam doing it? He knew exactly where he thought that stuff should stop – by never starting. But for him, and the reasons he was doing it – not the same thing at all. And so far it hadn't been much. Aside from the blasted headaches, he didn't think it was doing anything to him. And if that was all he had to put up with, he was good with it. He'd grilled Bobby already at least once and they were both convinced all was okay so far. It felt weird being able to hold on to things with his mind though. Really freaky. Which he supposed was the whole point. He doubted it would get better the longer they went on this road either.

Bobby closed the shed door hemming them all inside. In the chair, tied up as neatly as you pleased was his present. It was a middle aged man, beer belly, tats, receding hairline, leather vest, the whole nine yards. Except he wasn't alone. He had a demon riding inside him. Or so Ruby said. And it was Dean's job to yank it out by any means necessary.

This was going to be a whole new level of weird. Especially if he somehow pulled it off. Hell, there was no if! This was for Sammy. The faster he embraced this psychic/demon altered crap the sooner he could get his brother out of the pit. All else be damned.

"Just peek, grab and pull, right?" Dean had to rub his hands against his jeans, the damn things sweating again.

Ruby gave him a raised brow. "Actually, no. You need to power up first. And it'd be better if we waited till it was awake before you tried it. You need to get used to the idea of them fighting you. Not like they're going to give up willingly, you know."

Dean threw Bobby a look, his friend looking as uncomfortable in the space as he felt, then glanced back at her. "Power up?"

She sighed. Loudly. "The blood? You forgot already?" She pulled a regular knife out of her right black cowboy boot. She pricked her finger and pushed on it until a bright spot of red glistened from the tip.

"So I have to have some every time?" Shit, drinking blood like a vampire? How much freakier would this get?

"It's just one drop, what's the big deal?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm not going over there and sucking it off your finger, sister. You put it in something or it's not happening."

She rolled her eyes as if reconciled to having to deal with a spoiled three year old. He'd show her who was spoiled – damn skank! It was insane how she always seemed able to push his buttons.

Bobby piped in before this had a chance to get ugly. "I'll get something from the house. Be back in a minute." He closed the door behind him as he rushed out.

The heat was starting to gather in the enclosed place like a coat over their clothes. Dean felt the perspiration gathering at more than just his hands.

"So nothing different about this from the stuff we did before?" He didn't really feel like talking to her, but hated going in blind even more.

"Other than he'll be going at you with everything he's got, nope." She took off her jacket and threw it over the nearest work table. "Give the knife to Bobby or me so we can cover you. Just in case."

He couldn't have agreed more, it never hurting to be too careful, but wasn't about to say so. "Where'd you find this guy anyway?"

"Around." She gave him a one sided shrug, sucking on her finger. "Figured I'd find someone if I went looking. Lilith's not stupid. A body with the kind of potential Sam's holds is nothing to ignore, regardless of which Winchester is wearing it. She's got all sorts of people out there looking for you. Good thing you kept my hex bags."

It wasn't because he'd thought about them. He just hadn't done anything with them, they were still tucked in the car and in the duffels the same as before. He'd just inadvertently reaped the benefits. He'd had other things on his mind. "Yeah. Lucky me."

The tied up biker gave a soft grunt. Looked like the bastard demon was coming around. Dean pulled the knife from its place at the small of his back. Where the hell was Bobby?

As if the thought had summoned him, the old hunter pulled the door back and came inside. "Here, I figured you'd want a clear head for this." He handed Dean an open Coke.

He in turn handed the knife to Bobby. Then Dean held the can out in Ruby's direction. "Hit me."

She actually grinned for a second at the comment then sauntered over. It was creepy thinking she might actually have a sense of humor. He'd better watch it.

Pushing on her finger again, she got another drop to form and tipped it into the can. Dean swished the contents around rather vigorously then trying not to think about it, chugged the Coke down. He belched out the trapped gas inside and felt rather the better for it. He was sure the boost of caffeine and sugar wouldn't hurt having either. He wanted to do this thing, but it scared him shitless. Better him than Sammy any day though.

"So it takes three of you to pick on a tied up guy? Wusses." The deep disgusted voice came from the biker. He was staring at all of them with furious intensity. "You'd better let me go if you know what's good for you. I promise to kill you quick."

Dean wasn't impressed. Seen one smart mouth demon, seen them all. "Wow. Talk about giving us incentive. Not. Shut your pie hole and maybe you're the one who'll get killed quick." He scrunched his eyes to focus on the demon's essence, the immediate headache telling him he was doing it right. The demon veritably seethed inside the meatsuit. Time to pull it out.

He raised his hand and mentally reached for the smoke. Aside from the pain of the process, it was all quite simple really. It didn't feel odd or unnatural which was scary in its own way. How did you know you were a freak if you didn't feel like one? The way he grew up and lived his life made him one. But then there was being a freak and being a _freak_. What put you over the line from one to the other though?

This essence felt slicker, more eel like than Ruby's. The moment it felt him wrapping his mental fingers around it it tried to bite back. Dean held on, trying to pull the demon out of the biker's body, the pain in his head ratcheting up by the second. Shit, it felt like his brain wanted to explode.

Black smoke shunted back and forth from the biker's open mouth as their two wills battled for control. Dean grunted with the effort, the pain flaring in his head making it harder and harder to focus. As the demon fought not to be dragged out, it started pummeling on Dean's grip as well. As if he really were holding the demon with his hand, painful vibrations ricocheted back into him from the blows.

He cried out as he suddenly lost his hold. The demon smoke snapped back inside the biker's body. Some kind of power backlash smacked Dean's mind and almost drove him to his knees. He wasn't sure if this was related to what he'd just done, if it was an attack from the demon, or just Sam's brain taking the opportunity to assault the mind that didn't belong in there.

"Dean?" Bobby's worried query came from his right.

He waved his friend off, not sure he could speak if he wanted to his head still pounding in a fast aching cadence. Dammit, he'd committed to doing this thing. If he didn't win, Sammy wouldn't be getting free, _ever_! And that was unacceptable! Locking his legs in place, Dean reached out again with his hand and mind.

The biker's body stiffened, eyes growing wide.

The oily filth of the demon's essence roiled in his mental fist. Taking a long deep breath, Dean tried to yank him out again. It fought him harder than before, though he couldn't fathom how that was possible. Pain colored Dean's world even as the smoke was inch by excruciating inch dragged out of the biker's mouth. Deep brown eyes lost their look of defiance and turned panicked and scared. No way to tell if it was the demon fearing his end or the meatsuit becoming conscious of its current state.

Something hot and wet trickled out of Dean's nose and over his upper lip. A metallic scent filled his lungs, mingling with the smell of grease and oil that already suffused the place. One he'd had plenty of opportunity to smell in the past – blood. Sam's blood. A bolt of cold fear shot through him. Was he somehow frying his brother's brain?

In the end it didn't matter. His lapse of concentration found him mentally bludgeoned by his opponent. With a groan, Dean let go of the demon, a backwash of power making his legs into jelly and dropping him to his knees. He grabbed his head in his hands, sure the damn thing was splitting right there and then down the middle.

"That all you got, kid?" Harsh laughter rang around the room. "So much for Azazel's big scary heir. Not gonna cut it, pretty boy."

Dean tried to look up, the room swimming around him. He had to get back on his feet. He had to get this done. If the first son of a bitch they ran across could stomp all over him, how was he ever supposed to be able to fight Lilith?

He made it halfway to his feet before Sam's body vetoed the move and dropped him. Luckily Bobby grabbed hold of him before he made even more of a fool of himself by splattering all over the concrete. "Take it easy, boy. Just take it easy."

"No… I gotta…" Dean pressed the back of his hand against his temple, sure that several veins there were about to pop. The pain was better but not by much. He felt exhausted, as if he'd run for miles, though he'd really not done a damn thing.

"Dean enough!" The command came from Ruby not Bobby. "Relax or you'll just end up hurting yourself." She came up close, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "Bobby the knife."

Dean reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Just need -- a minute. I can try -- again."

"You're going to need way longer than a minute, sunshine!" The demon possessed biker brayed with amusement.

Even with his pounding head, Dean felt and saw Ruby tense at the comment. "Knife. Now."

Bobby shook his head. "Let me exorcise him. We can at least maybe save the man he's riding."

Ruby laughed low, no humor coating the sound. "You don't understand. You send him back and he'll tell our enemies where we are and what we're up to. Can't have that. Not if we want a chance at doing this. So unless you want the honor, _give me the knife_."

Bobby reluctantly handed the blade over. Dean tried to squeeze harder onto her wrist to stop her, but she pulled free without even really trying.

He grabbed onto Bobby to climb to his feet, but by the time he made it he was too late. A gurgle echoed in the enclosed space and golden light flared as Ruby drove the demon killing knife up the biker's jaw into his brain.

She left it dangling there as she turned to face the two of them. "Next time we should try two drops of blood. See if that makes a difference."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"You think running around with a demon is a good idea?"

The doubt in Bobby's voice only echoed Dean's own misgivings on the deal. He paced in front of Bobby's desk in the study/living room unable to stand still. "No. I know it's not. But killing demons _is_. And they won't be coming to us, so we've no choice but to go after them." He sent his friend an imploring look. "I have to keep practicing, I have to get stronger. Besides if she's with me instead of you and things go south, better her getting ganked than you any day."

"It'll make it real hard for me to keep an eye on you like you wanted." Bobby sat forward in his chair, elbows on the desk, and stared him in the face with worried eyes.

"I know!" Dean stopped, his hands coiling into fists at his side, this too nothing he hadn't gone over in his own mind a thousand times. "I don't much like it either. But we don't have much of a choice." Though he doubted Ruby could put one over on him, it had definitely felt safer with another pair of eyes watching his back. "I'll make sure to stay in touch though. Force us to stop by here on occasion. You could maybe run some tests on me or something."

Bobby nodded, playing with the rim of his faded John Deere cap. "You sure you're ready to go back out there?"

Yet another point Dean had been debating. And no, he wasn't sure. He had a focus now, a purpose, some actual hope. But there was no telling if it'd be enough to help him survive out in the real world without Sammy till he went. "I'm a big boy, Bobby. I'll be fine."

The hunter didn't call him on the lie, though they both knew different. Dean took a deep breath, inhaling the book and herb smell permeating the room along with dust and grease and felt himself missing it already. The fading red wallpaper, the musty couch, all the rooms filled with who knew what -- this place, being here with Bobby and whatnot, despite the things that had brought him here, had come to mean a lot. Hell, this place was home. And now he was going to leave it. A large unexpected lump lodged in his throat.

Bobby looked away tapping on the top of the desk and brought something else up instead. "I know I haven't really mentioned this before, but I'm feeling kinda uneasy about this blood business."

Dean shrugged trying to hide a look of surprise. Bobby was in fine mind reading form today. "Not too thrilled about it either, believe me. But so far…" He shrugged his shoulders again.

Bobby rose to his feet. "I know how you've felt about Sam's powers since the beginning and I know he wasn't too thrilled at the prospect of having them himself." He came around the desk to stand in front of him.

Dean steeled himself not sure where his friend was going with this.

"You didn't consider his feelings when you made the deal to bring him back the first time. Are you sure you going on this path is something he'd want you to do?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Why the heck was he bringing this up now? "This is all _my fault_. Sam is in Hell. It doesn't matter what he thinks. I have to try to fix it, the consequences to me be dammed!" How many times would he have to say this?

"Boy…" Bobby gave a long sigh. He reached up and put his hand behind Dean's neck and pulled him down so they were eye to eye. "Just promise you'll try to be careful, won't you? I think you have value, even if you don't. And I've buried you once already."

Dean could only stare into Bobby's too open expression. "You know I will."

"Promise me."

It made him feel warm and weird inside to think someone could care this much for someone like him. He honestly didn't understand it. "I promise."

Bobby let him go and putting his hand on Dean's now broader chest, gave him a soft push back. "I'm holding you to that. Don't you let me down."

"I won't." Not if he could help it. Staying alive was the only way he had to try to bring Sam back.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Whoa! What are you doing?" Dean leaned forward and glared at Ruby across the motel's kitchenette.

She stared at him with a wide eyed questioning look as she popped her cut finger into her mouth. She'd just finished dripping a dose of demon blood into his coffee. There was work to do tonight.

Only it looked like Ruby was up to something and he wasn't sure he liked it. "You put in more than two drops in there. Hell, it was like five!"

She took her finger out of her mouth. The wound had sealed already. "It's time to up the ante, Dean. You're catching on. Things are working. You can take on more now."

"What the hell for?"

Ruby gave him a shocked laugh. "Oh come on! Surely you didn't think one little drop of blood or two were going to give you enough power to handle Lilith, did you?" She brought the coffee over and set it before him. "Now drink up."

Dean had to fight not to cringe away from it. Think him stupid all she wanted, he'd not once thought he'd have to take more than the usual couple of drops. Two had done the trick. Two had let him yank out demons. Two had to be enough. He pushed the cup away. "No."

She gave a long exasperated sigh. "Why not? Things are getting easier, aren't they? You feel the power leaving faster and easier don't you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" He got up out of his chair and half turned away from her, butterflies filling his stomach. Using Sammy's weirdo powers _had_ been getting easier. The headaches were nowhere near as bad as they used to be. They'd gotten better just like she'd said. And they should trickle away to almost nothing eventually if she was to be believed. So far all Ruby had said was true. But it didn't mean he had to like it. That he shouldn't question it.

Bobby would have a field day with this.

He saw her move closer out of the corner of his eye.

"It means you're making progress. That you can handle pushing out more power at a time. Take on stronger demons." She pointed at the steaming coffee. "I bled myself for you, the least you could do is drink it." Her brow rose high on her face.

He made no move to take the cup.

"Doesn't it feel good to wield the power? Don't you feel like we're making progress? Like you have some control now?"

It did and they were and that was part of what worried him. He knew he was on a steep slippery slope with what they were about. But so far he couldn't feel it. They'd gotten rid of demons, saved people. Made the world a better place. And every day he felt deep inside the rising hope they could actually do this thing. That he would get a handle on Sam's powers enough to be able to use them to rescue his brother's soul. Yet the road to Hell was paved with good intentions or so the saying went.

And good intentions he had a plenty. But at what cost in the end?

"You want to help your brother and pull him from the pit, don't you?" Ruby's voice grew soft and quiet. "Don't you?"

At the cost of his soul. And he'd sold that off for his brother once already. How was this really any different? Hadn't he told Bobby exactly the same? He had to make amends. He had to put things right. Sammy was an innocent. Had always been, till all this stupid Azazel's Chosen business. Sam had always been altruistic. He knew right from wrong. But ever since Dean brought him back, as his final year ran out, he'd watched his brother become colder, more aloof. Sam had had a year to get used to the concept of Dean leaving, but it didn't work. Instead it drove his brother to make that stupid deal. _Which meant right at this very moment he was writhing in continuous torment_. Torment Dean had become only too well acquainted with and would wish such a thing on no one. Ever.

And to be honest, where the heck did he think his soul was going to go when he died, anyway? It wouldn't be upstairs. So what difference did it make if he it got tarnished a little more? Did he really have all that much to lose by doing this? He'd been given a weapon. He should use it. What did it matter whether it was one he held in his hand or if it was inside him? He needed to make sure to squeeze every last drop of good he could before his ticket came up again.

Without looking at his teacher/tormentor/companion/ally, he slowly turned back around and reached for the cooling cup.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"No use running, you son of a bitch!" Dean dodged left, spotting his quarry's shadow from the corner of his eye. Pools of darkness flooded the warehouse's aisles, only occasionally pushed back by lone bulbs hanging from high strung wires. The place was a veritable maze stinking of wood rot and mildew. But that damn demon wasn't going to leave this place alive if he had anything to say about it. He put on a burst of speed.

Ruby was good. Not that he'd ever tell her that. Just like she created those hex bags to hide his presence from anyone looking for him, she was real adept at tracking down her own kind. Omens helped to get them in the general vicinity. From there their quarry hadn't a prayer once she started sniffing around. Dean didn't know how she did it and never asked. All he cared about was results. And they'd had results a plenty.

Whenever they got the chance, Dean practiced on Ruby. Not the simple see and grab they'd done before but full out yanking her from her bod. She might be a weak demon, but practice was practice. And with the lack of love lost between them, she had no problems not holding back. It'd made for the worst headaches ever, and the suckers liked to linger afterwards, but he'd had worse done to him so they were nothing. Becoming less than nothing. The practice had made him that much more ready for each new playmate she found.

He still savored the first time he'd been able to yank a demon and get rid of it. It had given him a thrill of satisfaction like none he'd had in a long, long time. He could _beat_ the bastards! And beat them he did. Though the poor people they wore didn't always make it, not even now. But one less demon was one less demon and that was cause enough to celebrate.

A yell of frustration sent Dean's spirits soaring. The idiot had fallen into one of their traps. Game Over, man. A grin tugging at the edge of his mouth, he slowed down, willing to take his time, knowing it was better to be safe than sorry. Demons were tricky. Never paid to underestimate their kind.

Back against a half crumbling box, he peeked around the corner into the closed off loading dock. Sure as shooting there was the yuppie in his way too expensive suit pacing back and forth trapped in the middle of the room. It never got old catching the overconfident SOBs with hidden devil's traps. That old tarp he'd found molding in the corner had come in quite handy.

It was even more fun watching the look of surprise that popped up on the meatsuit's face as Dean leisurely walked into the room. "End of the line, bud."

The demon frowned, staring at him with a weird intensity. "Who are you? How did you get that body?"

Now that was different. His brow rose for a moment. "None of that matters right now, princess. Get ready to say goodbye." Dean narrowed his eyes slightly to see the demon's essence. Aside from a slight feeling of pressure, it didn't bother him to do it anymore.

"Are you Dean? Dean Winchester?"

WTF? "Yeah. What's it to you?"

Dean was doubly shocked as he saw hope and relief coat the meatsuit's face.

"It's me, Dean." The dude couldn't have looked more excited. "It's Sam!"

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't born yesterday, loser."

"I'm your brother. Dude, you have to believe me." He pounded his fist against the devil's trap's invisible wall. "Ask me _anything_. Tell me what to do. I'll prove it."

Dean started laughing. Couldn't help it. Couldn't stop it. He laughed and laughed until his sides hurt and tears rolled from his eyes. It echoed strangely against the bare warehouse walls. Some might have said it sounded mad. From the shocked and half horrified expression on the demon's face, it seemed he thought so.

Dean's arm went up and he poured out his will and grabbed onto the demon before him. "Sorry, possible Sammy. Too little, too late – as you once said. A week ago, I might have given a shit."

He yanked hard, a nasty grin breaking out over his face. Black smoke started pouring from the yuppie's open mouth, cutting off anything the person wearing him might have tried to say. Dean's grin grew wider. "But I don't anymore."

He stared with glee as the smoke pooled around the yuppie's feet, the meatsuit collapsing to the floor like a frozen piece of meat. He willed the demon in his mind's grip to burn.

And so it did.

-----

The violent gasp echoed around him though Dean didn't really hear it. He doubled forward, his heart hammering in his chest, his lungs in a vice. What little air he could take in _burned_. Flashes of hot and cold cut through him one after the other.

The dim room looked half familiar but it didn't matter. He dropped off the side of the bed onto the prickly carpet, fear filling his veins with dread. As his back connected with the corner, panic flooded him, making him both dizzy and nauseous as he realized he'd left his knife beneath his pillow and therefore now had no protection whatsoever.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins -- every movement, every sound amplified as they connected with his senses. The room spun and he splayed his hands against the wall to either side and his feet on the carpet to make sure he was grounded and wouldn't fly off into the ether.

The thought was pure insanity, but the cold terror running through him at the moment didn't give a shit. Cold sweat broke out all over his body. His chest hurt so bad he knew he was a poster child for heart attacks in the making.

Glimpses of the horrid nightmare flashed before his eyes like photographs from an album. Sam had been free. Dean had had full blown powers. And he'd sent Sammy away without a care back to the pit! He grabbed his head, squeezing it, trying to put himself back together. He must be losing his mind!

Yet he knew what this was, didn't he? He'd felt something similar though it'd only lasted for seconds back when Bella had Baby towed and he'd thought someone had stolen her – he was having a panic attack. A freaking panic attack! Hell, thinking back on it, that wasn't even the first time. What about when Sam had cut him off after two years at Stanford with his cock and bull story that he had to sever himself off from everything that reminded him of their old life? Or how about when he got stuck in that airplane with Sam, time running out as they tried to figure out who the demon was riding, before it decided to bring it and all those onboard smashing to the ground? Hell, let's go for broke -- how about when he realized he'd failed his brother after Sam got killed by Jake at Cold Oaks and he almost went insane trying to figure out what to do?

Yet this was so much worse than those times. So much worse! Probably a stinking PTSD and panic combo cocktail. But why? He'd been dealing with things. Hadn't he? He was moving forward. Making progress. Doing what he had to to bail Sammy from the pit. The means didn't matter, just the results. And he was still himself, right?

A tiny voice in the back of his mind piped in and asked him if he'd looked in the mirror lately.

"Dean?"

Aw fuck. Aw crap. Aw fucking crap. _Shit!_ He'd forgotten all about Ruby – the demon. Here. Alone. With him. His panic skyrocketed to new heights. He tried to push himself further back into the corner, ducking his face into his arms.

No, no, no! This was not going to get the best of him, dammit! This would pass. This _would pass_. He almost screamed when a warm hand touched his arm.

"Are you okay?"

This wasn't right. His whole body was shaking. Dammit, she wasn't ever supposed to see him like this. This was weakness. You never showed a demon weakness. Why in hell had he ever agreed to go anywhere with her? He should have known better. He'd lived from motel to motel with his father and brother his whole life! He knew the lack of privacy that kind of existence offered. What had he been thinking?

He struggled to draw deep breaths through his nose and exhale them through his mouth. He needed to freakin' calm down. He would have hummed some Metallica but didn't think he could manage it. "Go…go away…" He cringed at the little boy voice screaming of fear and terror.

"Another nightmare?"

Wow, she even sounded concerned. It just made him that much more scared. How bad off was he when a demon would show pity for him? And she'd noticed too about his nightmares as if things weren't bad enough. He'd actually thought she hadn't caught on about his bad sleeping habits. Shit, shit, shit! This would pass. This would pass!

"You're awake now. It's all right."

Dean felt his heart give a hard lurch in his chest as her hand touched his head and caressed his sweaty hair. WTF?

"You're not alone, Dean. You don't have to suffer these things by yourself." Her voice was soft, gentle. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard her sound that way before. It wasn't right. Could he still be trapped in a nightmare?

"D-don't."

She stroked his head again, then his exposed arms. "Shshsh."

Dean froze with shock as her lips caressed then kissed the inside of his elbow, his wrist, his trembling fingers. She ran her hand lightly over his knee, his leg and back again.

He found himself having difficulty breathing, but now for other reasons. One hand pulled gently at his where they still covered his face, even as she licked the round of his ear. If nothing else, it was definitely distracting. Though fear still pulsed through his veins, it was now battling against rising hormones. Dean felt parts of him starting to twitch in response.

She kissed his ear, his sideburn, and pushing away his hand gently but insistently, brushed her lips against his cheek. She kissed his stubble, the corner of his mouth, the side of his nose. When her lips finally met his, a firecracker exploded in his insides. His Best Friend rose to definite attention.

Ruby's tongue worked her way into his mouth, almost dislodging every last thought in his head.

It'd been so long. So very very long. He hadn't indulged since before he went to Hell.

Dean felt the heat drain from his face as the thought echoed in his mind. Since before he went to Hell… This Best Friend wasn't _HIS Best Friend_. His was dead, done, buried! This one was his brother's. He felt the hard-on wilt down and hide away as if disowning him for having dared confuse him for another.

The fear burned away in a flash replaced by something else entirely – disgust. Disgust and anger. And he grabbed onto the latter because the former would only have him howling at the moon. He grabbed Ruby by the shoulders and shoved her back as hard as he could. "No!"

She yelped in surprise, her arms wheeling behind her to keep from slamming onto the floor. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Keep your paws off! I'm not going there, Ruby." He used the wall as support to help him get to his feet, the panic attack having left him feeling weak.

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Why? You're flaming libido is no secret, _Dean_. You'll have sex with almost anything female. I've seen it. So why _reject_ me?"

"How blind are you? This body _isn't mine_! It's Sam's. I can't just do whatever I feel like with it." Dean could count in one hand the number of times Sam had gone out and had sex with a woman since they started traveling together. His brother wouldn't approve of Dean using his body for his own pleasure. He would bet on it.

And it wasn't like he deserved it. None of this would be happening if not for him.

Ruby stood face tilted up, staring down her nose at him. "You're a fool. That body is yours. It's your soul in it, not your brother's. And when you free him, _if you do_, he won't be getting it back!"

He felt his own anger escalating. "Yeah? And I should listen to you because you've cared so much for the bodies you've borrowed?" The sarcasm dripped off him like a river.

Her eyes grew wide and he was suddenly sure she was about to throw herself at him, no holds barred, but this time to do him harm. And he wasn't in the best shape at the moment to stop her, not even with his new bag of tricks.

A heavy pounding flooded into the room from the back wall, making both of them freeze. "Shut the fuck up! Have sex and just get it over with already. Some of us need sleep!"

Without meaning to, Dean's gaze locked with Ruby's. Her hands had jumped up to her mouth like a guilty three year old. Squashed giggled slipped through her fingers. The moment she saw him looking, they got worse. Then he too found himself laughing. He didn't bother covering it up for their neighbor's benefit. This brought on some extra pounding which only made them laugh even more.

By the time they were able to stop, Dean's sides hurt like a mother. Ruby was a puddle on the ugly carpet. She slowly tried to sit up, wiping tears away from her eyes.

Whether either of them had meant this to happen or not, Dean noticed he was as far away from his panic attack as he could be. He was grateful. He also hoped to heck he wouldn't get another one like that anytime soon.

"I suppose, you might have a point." Ruby half turned away from him. "It's a stupid point, and I don't see how it makes any difference, but if that's how you feel, I'll respect it." She sent him an impish glance over her shoulder. "Just don't expect me to do the same." That said she took off her top and bounced back over toward her bed making sure he got an eyeful.

Dean swallowed hard. Whether they could afford it or not, it was time for them to start getting separate motel rooms.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Something's going down!"

Dean looked up, startled, the fresh, grease dripping cheeseburger he'd been looking forward to all morning halfway to his mouth.

Ruby stomped up to his table and stared at him intently as if expecting what she'd said to make him jump to his feet.

Dean gave her a raised eyebrow instead then went ahead and took a bite of his burger, relishing the taste of the meat, the melting cheese, tomato, lettuce, and mustard, the thing tasting as awesome as he thought it would.

"We need to go!" She glared at him then stared out the diner's large front window as if expecting to see something happening in the street.

Aside from a postman making rounds and some light traffic, nothing was going on out there.

Dean thoroughly chewed what would probably turn out to be his one and only bite, if Ruby got her way, and put the rest of the burger back on the plate. "How about explaining what you're talking about?"

Ruby slapped both hands on the top of the table. She made sure to lean way forward so he could get a real good look at her cleavage over the partially unbuttoned forest green shirt. For the last few weeks, ever since the 'incident', she'd been going to great lengths to flaunt her attributes at him whenever possible. Especially when she was annoyed with him. Which was pretty much all the time.

Thankfully, knowing the not so fun personality behind the bod, made her efforts mostly useless. He'd been much more worried about a recurrence of the panic attack. Swimming in the pool everyday just to burn up energy, calling Bobby almost every day, and finding ways to test himself, to make sure he was still him inside seemed to be doing the trick so far.

Lots had scared him plenty in his life. And going to Hell should have been the worst there'd ever be. But his subconscious had definitely showed him the error of his ways. But he would not fail his brother. No matter what ended up happening to him.

"The guests I was looking for? So you could practice? They've up and bailed! Took off like their pants were on fire."

That got his attention.

"Word is something went down in Illinois, around the city of Pontiac. Something Lilith wants to know about bad. And if she does, we should too. Especially if it can be used against her." She flashed him a wicked grin.

Dean was on his feet before the thought to do so even truly crossed his mind. He dumped a twenty on the table and quickly followed Ruby out into the street. His long legs made the short run to the motel and Baby a snap. Ruby, with her shorter tread, had to work at it more.

The weather was changing. The wind had a little bite to it lately. The trees were already changing colors as September moved on its way.

He slowed by the motel office. "Get our stuff. I'll check us out and call Bobby. See if he has any idea what demons would want up there."

Ruby nodded and made a beeline for their rooms on the far side of the parking lot.

Dean checked them out, promising to dump the keys as soon as they got their stuff out. He fished in his new leather jacket for his cell phone and speed dialed Bobby's place. He could feel the excitement building in his gut. He wasn't ready to face Lilith yet, but it would be ever so sweet to somehow get one up on her. Something that'd do more damage than getting rid of the occasional goon.

The phone on the other end rang twice before Bobby picked up. "Hello…?"

The cautionary tone on the other end seemed out of place. "Bobby, something wrong?"

"Dean! No, no, nothing's wrong. Just some crank caller pestering me on the phone. A lot of hang-ups calls with breathing this morning."

"New girlfriend?" He'd not been able to help himself.

"Funny -- in another universe maybe. What'd you need?"

Dean crossed the parking lot checking for traffic as he hurried through. "Ruby says something's gone down in Illinois. Something Lilith seems mighty interested in and has rerouted the demons we were hunting to go check out. You got any ideas what could be going on up there? Have you noticed any signs happening in that direction?"

The silence from the other end seemed suddenly heavy. Dean slowed down.

"Bobby?"

Ruby came out of one of the rooms carrying several duffels and dumped them into the Impala's back seat as if they weighed nothing.

"Uh. One thing comes immediately to mind, but…surely it's not related?" His friend sounded shaken and unsure. It wasn't like him.

Dean frowned. "What is it?"

"Illinois. Your, your body is buried up there."

"You shitting me?" Why in the world had he been buried in Illinois? He'd died in Indiana. He rubbed at his forehead realizing he'd never actually asked what Sam and Bobby had done with him after he'd died.

"No, I'm not. Sam drove up there with you in the back seat half out of his mind. He seemed to know exactly where he wanted to take you. Cleaned you up in a little strip of a motel, like something out of the 60's. We put you in the ground in a clearing in some woods."

Something in what he said rang familiar. Suddenly, Dean could barely find the breath to speak. "Somewhere outside of Pontiac?"

"How'd you know?" Bobby asked in that same shocked voice as before.

"That's where whatever it is went down…" Could they be after his body? Whatever for! The thing was three months in the ground rotting. And it'd not been in good shape before that in the first place. He should know.

Ruby slipped her black jacket on and came to stand next to him a questioning look on her face. Dean held a hand up for her to wait when he saw her open her mouth to ask what was going on.

"It's gotta be a coincidence. There's just no way it could be connected. No way." Bobby didn't sound like he believed it.

A cramp in his intestines told Dean he shouldn't either. But it didn't make any sense. "Ruby and I are going up there. Guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Be careful, boy. Something about this bothers me."

"You're not the only one, Bobby." Dean rubbed at his chin. "You're not the only one."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

They were only an hour out of the city when a call came in on his cell. Dean glanced down at the caller ID expecting it to be Bobby but it was just a number. He hit the call pickup button. "Yeah?"

No one responded though the line was open.

"Hello? Anyone there?" He gave whoever it was another second or two then hung up. If it was important they'd call again. He had way too many other things to worry about at the moment.

A couple of minutes later, the cell phone rang again. It was the same number.

"Talk to me."

This time he thought he heard some muffled breathing but still no one answered. Dean coasted Baby across the entrance into US 57 and drifted over to the speed lane of the highway. He pressed his foot a little harder on the accelerator wanting to eat as much asphalt as soon as possible. Whatever was going on in Illinois, he wanted in.

"You know what? I don't have time for this shit! Either say something or I'm hanging up and not answering the damn phone again. I have things to do."

Ruby was staring at him from the passenger side, a brow at full attention. He totally put her out of his mind as a half sob came across the line.

"Dean…?"

The voice wasn't familiar, but something about the tone… It made him think of Sam and his recurring nightmares back when he was little. How he'd sounded when he was still being gripped by the dreams while awake, trying to find his way back. "Who is this?"

"Are you okay?" Before he could try to answer words started tumbling out from the caller one after another. "I didn't know if… I didn't plan on… something's wrong…"

"Who the hell are you?" He didn't realize how hard he was gripping the phone until his knuckles popped. Trees and exposed rocks swooshed past him as the Impala zoomed down the road.

The breathing on the other end seemed to grow labored as if a battle were going on on the other end. Dean was almost convinced he wouldn't get an answer when it actually came.

"…Sam…"

"_That isn't funny!_" He almost threw the phone across the car, his furious response echoing in the enclosed space. Only two things stopped him. The first was the wide eyed startled look on Ruby's face and the other was the obvious distress he'd already heard from whoever it was on the other end of the line. But there was no way this was his brother. "You need help? Fine! But don't go passing yourself off as a dead man to get it, you lying _bastard_."

He had to struggle to bring his voice down to anything but a yell.

"If you have something to say, you better say it quick because I've had about all of this I'm going to take. _You have thirty seconds_." The chords at his neck felt ready to snap. He jerked Baby over a lane a little too sharply, trying to avoid someone going less than a 100 miles an hour on the fast lane. The car shuddered in protest at the harsh treatment but performed to expectations.

"Running through the Humiston Woods. Together for two straight weeks every year. The Midwest Motel in Forrest, Illinois?"

Dean wasn't too hot with names at times, but all of those rang bells. "The Winchester vacation spot?"

"Yes!" The relief on the other end was palpable. "Can you meet me? Please? I think something's after me."

Dean's head was running at a thousand miles an hour. Forrest was just outside of Pontiac. What Bobby told him about where Sam had taken to bury him now made sudden sense. A couple of weeks a year all the Winchesters holed up at the Midwest Motel, locking out the world, just Sam, Dad, and him, rushing through the woods, obstacle courses, survival training. It'd been Winchester boot camp, but also so much more. It was the one time of year where his father seemed to be able to set things aside, to focus on them rather than a hunt or what had killed their mother. Those had been the few precious times when they'd seemed most like a real family. And it had meant the world to Sam.

He could definitely see him deciding to bury him up there. The woods the closest thing to a family plot they had.

Could this somehow _be_ Sam? But how? It was impossible. It was the one thing he'd been told by everyone he'd asked that couldn't be done. Not unless Lilith did it and normally only through a deal. And why would she? It didn't make any sense. Unless this was some kind of trap…

"Dean?"

"I'm at least five hours out. But I'll get there as soon as I can. And you better have a damn good reason for using my brother's name in vain." He snapped the phone shut and put it away, not wanting to hear another word from the caller. His eyes stared only straight ahead, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel as if he were chocking someone.

"What's… going on?" Ruby's tone was tentative.

Though irritated at the intrusion, Dean was somewhat surprised to find himself answering her anyway. "There's a small town outside Pontiac called Forrest. We're going to go meet someone there."

"Why? I thought we had other things to do."

"I know that! But we're going anyway." He sent her a heated glare daring her to tell him no.

Long seconds ticked by before she progressed to next obvious question. "Who are we meeting there then?"

"I don't have the faintest idea. But I intend to find out." Dean pushed his foot that much harder on the accelerator. He meant to get there way long before whoever it was thought they would get there.

And if this was some sort of trick…someone was going to pay!


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Baby sucked through the gas as if it were going out of style. When Dean was forced to pull over to fill up the 24 gallon tank less than twenty minutes from their destination, he tapped his foot impatiently waiting for her to drink up, the smell of leaded gasoline filling up the air around him.

Ruby had prudently stayed inside the car. A good thing, too, because if she wasn't in there when he was ready to go, he would have left her ass behind without even a warning.

Something stank about this whole business. The caller knew things no one else should. Still, Sam had been possessed before and right now he was in Hell. So not only would Meg have had plenty of opportunity to riffle through his memories while she was in him for the week he'd been missing and been able to pass them on after she escaped, but as long a time as his brother had already been down in the pit, they could have asked and gotten answers to all sorts of questions.

But why do this? Why now?

All he could come up with was that despite how careful they'd been, Lilith and her goons had found out about the powers he was using and why and they were setting a trap to get rid of him before he got stronger. Well, two could play at that game. He wouldn't go down easily. He had too much to lose.

The moment the pump dinged, Dean smacked the gas tank closed and put the hose back. Running inside, he slapped down sixty bucks on the counter and didn't stick around for the change. He left the station with a squeal of tires and smoke blowing off his wheels.

The closer they got to Forrest and then the motel the more things appeared familiar. It'd been ten years or more since the last time he'd been out here, so a lot had changed. There were more single story homes, more roads and developments, new businesses, all amidst the usual sea of cultivated fields one always found out in this part of the country.

Once he got on North Central street, he pulled over a couple of blocks up, coming toward the motel from the back side. He turned off the engine and stared out the windshield, checking out the lay of the land. He sent Ruby a half glance. "I've no idea what we're walking into. And we've no time to find out. So if you want to sit this one out, I won't hold it against you."

She shook her head. "No, I'm in. I've worked too hard on this not to have your back." She tilted her head sending him a half grin. "Besides, I wouldn't want to miss the chance to see you get your ass kicked."

Dean rolled his eyes and got out of the car.

Opening the trunk, he grabbed extra clips for the 1911, a small container of holy water, some chalk then grabbed a couple of the shotguns as well as some salt loaded shells. He hefted one of the shotguns toward Ruby as she came around. "There's a park and a strip of forest on the backside of the motel, so we should be able to get pretty close. If this joker knows all he claims, he'll be in room seven. We can squeeze between the buildings to get at the door without being spotted from most of the parking lot until it's too late."

Dean touched the inside pocket of his long black leather jacket to make sure the demon killing knife was in easy reach. He'd been unable to resist the coat, despite the fact it somewhat resembled Ruby's, actually finding the thing fit him when he'd tried it on on an impulse. It was too new and nowhere near as comfy as his broken in model, but he was sure he could get it there. Already he'd added several heavily lined pockets to the inside for the knife, his Colt 1911, even their father's journal if he wanted to carry it. Definitely good enough for carrying extra ammo and flasks of both whiskey and holy water to boot. Besides, it actually made Sam look like something other than a geek for once. Now he just looked Emo. Which was still loads better than college dork in Dean's book. Least he could do for his bro.

He closed the trunk. "Let's do this."

The sun was starting its steep descent towards the horizon, inadvertently helping them as its rays made it even harder for anyone to spot them coming.

The squeeze between buildings was tighter than he remembered, but he managed it. With her slimmer form, Ruby had no trouble with it at all. Dean stopped about midway, just listening, letting nature and other sounds give him an idea of the state of things around them. Not picking up anything out of the norm, he pushed on to get to the other side.

Once at the edge, he quickly darted his head out to look in both directions. The lot was mostly empty and nothing seemed out of place. An old faded Lima bean green car out of the fifties sat in the parking spot in front of room seven.

Leaning up fully against the wall, Dean took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Then in a rush, he stepped out from between the buildings and jumping the two steps to the door of number seven, reared his foot back and kicked.

The door slammed inwards, taking half the jam with it. He jumped through the opening and instantly stepped to the side.

Dean spotted someone sitting hunched over on the nearest bed and brought the muzzle of the shotgun to point in that direction. "Don't move or it'll be the last thing you do."

He squinted mentally, bringing forth the ability to see demon essences without really looking at who was there. He got nothing. Shutting it down, he focused on the person, who'd not moved as instructed. A second later he realized it'd had nothing to do with anything he'd said.

The man on the bed was staring at him, jaw dropped and shock written all over his face. Yet it was a face Dean was only too familiar with – _his own_ – the one he'd lost! His heart lurched in his chest. He must be hallucinating. There was no way his body, his true body, could be sitting there looking at him from that bed.

Ruby rushed inside and closed the door, then came to a startled halt beside him as she took in the view. "Holy crap."

Dean felt a shiver run through him, her expression and words stating only too clearly that she was seeing the same thing he was. "WTF?"

His face, the one he used to wear, changed from astonishment to an expression that sent chills running up his spine because it was so familiar. It was relief, a relief so deep, it lit up the eyes. And he'd seen it before, the relaxed cheeks, the drooping eyes, he'd seen it more than once on his brother's face.

"Dean…" The thing that looked like him stood up.

He gripped the shotgun tighter and snapped it back up, his finger ready on the trigger. "I told you not to move!"

Pain and uncertainty flashed in the thing's eyes, his eyes, but then was gone. It stood still as requested, hands splayed out at its side, its expression neutral.

"What the hell are you?" Dean barked out the question, already compiling a mental list of all the things that could do this, that could mimic his missing body. It wasn't like he hadn't dealt with a duplicate of himself before.

He stared the dude up and down trying to remember what clothes he'd been wearing when he died. The jeans and boots definitely looked like his. The thing also had his skull head bracelet but was missing his amulet, which sat securely around Dean's neck. The knuckles of its hands were scratched and bloody, several of the fingernails broken and filled with dirt. His face looked washed, but he could see where there was dirt still clinging to his hair and clothes. The smell of sweat and fear clung around him like a cloak.

"I'm Sam. Your brother."

God was that how he really sounded to the world? He'd always thought his voice was deeper, tougher sounding. Dean chewed on his lower lip fighting the temptation to just shoot the mother. "My brother _is dead_. Getting his ass chomped in Hell. So I suggest you come up with another story."

Never taking his eyes off the thing, Dean slowly squatted down to retrieve the short knife in his boot. Something nice and silver would sort all of this out real quick.

He was glad to note that Ruby was keeping her shotgun trained on the thing as well.

"If I came up with another story, then I'd be lying." The thing huffed in frustration. "I thought you'd prefer the truth!"

Whoa! The creepy feelings just kept on coming. This thing was good, very good.

Dean tossed the small knife onto the bed. "Grab that up and cut your arm."

The thing glanced at the blade then picked it up. Barely glancing at his arm, it took the blade and ran it across the forearm, bringing up a line of vibrant red. "I'm not a shapeshifter, Dean."

"Shut it! Throw the knife on the bed and back up."

The thing did as it was told, frowning a little.

Ruby came up before he could and retrieved the knife. Much to his amazement, she took the blade and licked it. She then wiped the knife clean and handed it back. "Blood's human. There's not a taint of anything else in it either."

The thing turned to look at her, frowning, as if truly seeing her for the first time. "Ruby?"

She gave him a raised brow for an answer. While the thing was distracted, Dean brought out one of his flasks. Popping the lid with his thumb, he flung the contents at the thing.

Aside from catching it off guard and making it wet, the holy water didn't seem to have any effect. The dirty disapproving look with the pressed lips this solicited though was one he'd seen many many times. Just not on _that_ face.

Dean's chest grew tight but for once not out of fear or pain or sadness but something else entirely – hope. "Sammy?"

"Dude, I already told you that." The shy semi embarrassed smile he got with that was all Sam.

And just like that all of Dean's doubts evaporated. His brother was back! And if his gut was later proved wrong, well, someone would be made sorry for it.

He dumped the shotgun on top of the TV and came at him. The face that no longer belonged to him looked even more relieved than before and moved to meet him. Dean waited till the last possible moment then brought up his fist and smashed it into the side of his brother's face.

Totally unprepared, Sam took the hit and fell with a thump to the floor.

"That's for fucking up everything and making that stupid deal, you dumbass!"

"_Damn you_!" Hazel eyes glared at him from the ground, tears glinting at the corners as a hand rose to touch the injured jaw. "I dare you to tell me you wouldn't have done the exact same damn thing!"

Dean popped his neck, feeling a whole lot better. Okay, except for the now throbbing hand. But it was worth it. "Yeah, probably would have. And so not the point." He stepped over to his brother and put his hand out.

"You gonna hit me again?" Sam rubbed gingerly at his jaw as he stared doubtfully up at him.

It was just too damn freaky seeing that unsure look coming from his old face. "Maybe."

The old frown marred Sam's new face for a moment then cleared. He reached up for Dean's hand. "Guess I'll take my chances."

Dean couldn't help but grin. He yanked his brother to his feet then hugged him, squeezing till he heard Sam's ribs creak. His stupid ass brother was BACK!

And right then he just wanted to hold onto him and never let him go. But a hrmph from the door quickly reminded him they weren't alone. Dean started to pull back and met some resistance, but only for a moment. Sam let him go and stepped away, looking at anything but him, his eyes bright and blinking rapidly.

"Tell you what," Ruby said. "How about I go keep watch outside and the two of you do whatever it is you do at moments like this?"

"Yeah, why don't you do that?" Dean didn't even glance her way. There was only one thing that was important at the moment. _His little brother was back._


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The second Ruby left Dean asked the one question that was buzzing around like an angry bee in his head, super desperate to get out. "How did you do it?"

Sam glanced at him then looked away. "Do what?"

Dean was forced to do the same, almost like his mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the fact that his little brother was back, and more, that he was now wearing Dean's old body.

Still, he felt a flare of momentary annoyance at the evasion. Was Sam going to make him spell it out? So be it. "You know what, dude. How the _hell_ did you get out of Hell?"

Sam sat down on the bed nearest to him, almost tripping over himself, obviously having a little trouble adjusting to the new leg size and height as Dean had done.

When the answer came, he almost didn't hear it.

"I don't know…" His brother still wasn't looking at him.

"Don't fuck around with me, Sammy! Surely you have some idea."

The gaze that met his then appeared haunted and dark. "I researched this before, Dean. There's no way for someone to get pulled out without a deal. I've no idea how this happened."

"What do you remember?" Dean started to come in close, but stopped himself. He wanted to touch him, to reassure himself Sammy was really there. Instead he sat down on the bed across from him and tried not to crowd him.

Sam looked away again. "I recall making the deal to switch places. Then I woke up in your coffin. In your body. All healed and patched back together again. That's it." His hand came up and he started chewing on a nail.

Dean was tempted to slap the hand away, those being his fingers Sam was doing that to and the nails were already broken and dirty to boot, but didn't. He wasn't sure how to take his brother's answer, his emotions splitting two ways on what he'd told him. Could they be so lucky? Could Sammy have done what he did yet come back not remembering one iota of his months/years downstairs? It would be glorious, absolutely wonderful, but he just couldn't bring himself to believe it. Why would anyone do Sam the favor of sparing him the awful memories?

"I, I did find one thing though. I just don't know what it means." Without looking at him, Sam pulled up the left arm of the black t-shirt.

Dean hissed in a breath as he stared at what looked like a swollen burn high up Sam's arm, almost on the shoulder. He leaned forward to take a closer look and was totally creeped out as he noticed that it looked like a hand print. As if someone had latched onto Sammy from above and yanked. "WTF?"

"Yeah." Sam re-hid the burn then stared at his hands. "And that's not all." His brother looked up and met his gaze. "The area around the gravesite was devastated. Like a bomb had gone off. And the epicenter of it was your grave."

Dean's jaw dropped trying to picture what that looked like. "What could have done that?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't have the faintest idea. But there's something else…"

"Shit. There's _more_?" He wasn't sure he could handle hearing it. What in the world was going on? Who had yanked Sam out? And worse, what did they want in exchange?

"After I dug my way out and left the woods, I stopped at a closed gas station. While I was there, something…something came." Though the words came out easily enough, he noticed his brother's hands were lightly shaking. Seemed way wrong on his bod. Hell, way wrong for his brother, too. Not possible he didn't remember things. "The TV and radio turned on on their own. Then a keening sound started. The, the thing had this, this high piercing shriek that got worse and worse and it busted in all the windows of the place." Sam looked up again. "It didn't come in and I never saw it. But I'm pretty sure it was there because of me."

Lilith had sent a group of demons up here to investigate, but if they'd found Sam, they wouldn't have just left him. Could there be a new player in town? As if things weren't complicated enough already!

Dean stood up. "Come on. I want to see the grave and the gas station. Maybe we can get some intel we can use on this mess. That someone pulled you out of Hell has to mean something." He glanced at his brother when the latter didn't move. "Sam?"

Sam's eyes shifted back and forth as if weighing options. Dean didn't have the faintest idea what that was about.

"Something else you need to tell me?"

"No!"

Dean's brows shot up at his brother's total panicked tone.

Sam hurried to his feet, not looking anywhere near him. "No. There's nothing else. I was just, I was just thinking the authorities are probably out there by now. And who knows what else."

His brother had a point. The demons he and Ruby had been following could possibly be snooping around. Not that he couldn't handle them. He was more than capable anymore. "Won't know unless we look."

"Right."

Dean stared at him hard, but Sammy seemed okay. Well, as okay as he could seem wearing someone else's body. There were loads of things Dean wanted to ask him. Things he needed to check into with regards to what had been going on with him downstairs. But this wasn't the time.

He smacked Sam in the arm more for his own benefit than his brother's, needing that little extra proof he really really was there. "So let's do it."

Grabbing the shotgun off the TV, Dean pulled back on the broken door and stepped out into the sunshine. It hit him almost like a slap, somewhere deep inside him thinking the jig was finally up and he'd just opened the door to reveal an amused Alistair who would then drag him back where he belonged. Worse this would turn out to be just another nasty nightmare and he'd wake up at some motel with only his loss, pain, and guilt for company.

Yet reality stayed still and when he shot a glance over his shoulder, Sam, wearing Dean's meat, was still there, crowded close.

Ruby glanced over from where she sat atop the old clunker's hood keeping guard. "That was quick."

"Sammy and I need to go check out a couple of things." He threw the next bit at Sam. "I'm assuming this old sucker's stolen?"

His brother gave him a nod while slipping back into his dirt coated green outer shirt.

Dean turned back toward Ruby. "If you don't mind, ditch this thing somewhere then come back and keep the place clear. We'll probably be gone a couple of hours at least."

"Swell." The latter was delivered with just a touch of snarkiness. "Just remember to keep your eyes open. We don't know where those others are."

"Yeah, yeah, I haven't forgotten." He steered Sam toward the gap between buildings and squeezed in.

"You and Ruby get along now?" His tone of disbelief was heavy. Not that Dean blamed him. It's not like Sam had ever seen the two of them being all that civil to each other before.

"As if." Dean snorted. "No, we just have us an understanding. She's handy to have around when hunting down demons."

Sam gasped behind him and Dean had no clue what to make of that. Neither of them said anything else and just concentrated on getting through to the other side.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The drive to the area by the woods was quiet.

It felt damn good to be in the Impala with Sam sitting in the passenger seat again. As long as he didn't glance over toward him, he could even mostly pretend things were back to what they'd been before his deal came due and before all this ugly body swapping business.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stop sneaking glances in Sam's direction. Just like when he kept getting shocked at the fact Sammy was dead, he was now having the same thing happening to him in reverse. He just couldn't help feeling that at any moment, any second, Sammy would disappear as if he'd never been. Dean wasn't going to let his brother get out of his sight for more than two minutes no matter where they were or what they were doing. He had a second shot at doing his old job and no way no how was he going to botch it up again. He'd keep Sammy safe!

His cell phone rang and after yet another glance in Sam's direction he pulled it out and answered it. "Yeah, Bobby."

Sam's head snapped to face in his direction.

"You all up there yet?"

"Yeah. About to check out a couple of places brought to my attention. Uh, Bobby?" How the heck was he supposed to say this over the phone? Hell, would his friend even believe him? "I think you should get up here. There's been, some developments…" He sent a half glance in Sam's direction. His brother was sitting stiffly in the seat, his hands bunched fists on his lap, his whole attention on Dean and the phone he was holding.

"Good news or bad news?"

"Good news, Bobby. Unbelievably good news." He sent a big smile in Sam's direction.

He watched his brother try to give him one back but it was fragmented. Dean set his gaze back on the road before Sam could see the frown itching to form on his face. No friggin' way Sammy didn't remember things from down below. He'd have to call him on it and soon, but not right now. Dammit, when it rained, it poured.

"What is it?" Bobby's voice rang with eagerness. Good news had been scarce for quite a while.

"I'll tell you all about it once you get your ass up here. So hurry up!" He tried to sound as excited as before, but was having a hard time of it. "I'll text where we'll be staying a while later. Trying to figure out a thing or two still before deciding where to hole up."

"All right, be that way, you idjit. Be up there in seven plus hours or so."

"See ya." Dean flipped the phone closed and put it away. He couldn't help throwing another glance in Sam's direction.

His brother had turned away, seemingly staring out the side window, his forehead against the glass. From what little Dean could see reflected in it, his brother didn't look happy. So he was a little surprised when the question floated on over to him.

"Is Bobby okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Shouldn't he be?"

He got a shrug for an answer.

"Sam?"

A deep sigh echoed in the car's interior. "I, I didn't…I didn't say good-bye before I left." Another sigh followed. "I was afraid he'd try and stop me."

"No shit, Sherlock!" The rebuttal came clipped and hard and he was sorry the moment it left his mouth, but it was too late. Sam should have never done what he did, though. No way. "But he's okay." Then in a much softer voice, he added, "We helped each other through stuff."

Sam said nothing else.

A squad car was at the gas station, lights flashing. Dean drove up and parked, keeping the engine on. He threw a veiled look Sammy's way. "You wanna come with?"

"I'd rather not, if that's okay."

Having expected the reply, Dean shrugged and grabbed the EMF reader and tucked it into a pocket before climbing out of the car. The station was a green trimmed white building with one enclosed service bay and two old style red pumps in front. He noticed there was one old clunker in the small lot and a lone phone booth. Guess the car Sammy stole was the better pick of the two, though neither was pretty. Lima bean green was just not right…

The large window in the front, the ones on the garage door, and the glass on the front door were gone. There was little to no glass outside though. The moment he stepped into the doorway he saw why, every window had imploded coating the floor inside with broken shards.

"Hey you! What are you doing here?"

A deputy sheriff trundled from the back of the snack area, glass crunching underfoot.

Dean spotted the TV set and radio Sam had also mentioned. He made himself look back at the officer putting on a lost puppy look. "Sorry. I think I made a wrong turn and saw the gas station and thought I'd ask for directions. What in the world happened here?" With a bit of practice, he'd found he could tap into Sammy's mundane powers by just asking himself WWSD – What Would Sammy Do – then react and school his face accordingly. It scarily worked more times than not. "Was anyone hurt?"

The deputy studied him over with a raised brow then indicated they should step outside. "Place was closed, so everyone's fine. Looks like some vandals had at the place. Emptied the cash register and swiped some goods. Mr. Harrison won't be happy. Has never had a problem in thirty years."

"Oh wow, sorry to hear that." Dean made his brow frown with oodles of concern.

The deputy put his hat on. "Where you headed anyway?"

"Comell? My brother had us following 23, but I think we got off too soon." He jerked a thumb in the rumbling Impala's direction. Sam was looking their way from the inside of the car.

The deputy laughed. "Shoot, I'd say so. Should have just stayed on it. It curves around at the 170 split and takes you right in." He gave Dean some directions on how to get back to it.

"Thank you, officer. Appreciate it." He gave the guy a wide smile and took his leave.

Doing this before had oddly enough made him feel closer to his missing brother. Now with Sam back and in the car watching him, it just made the whole thing weird.

"Dean, what the hell was that?"

Guess he wasn't the only one that thought so either. "Nothing. Just using your sickeningly honest looking face to best advantage."

Sam shook his head. "You scare me sometimes."

Dean acted shocked and offended. "What? Only sometimes? Dude!"

For once, Sammy actually found what he said funny, and a glimmer of a grin made an appearance for a short lived second. It wasn't much, but Dean would take whatever he could get.

"Find anything?"

Dean shook his head. "No go on the EMF, not even a chirp. Didn't see or smell any sulfur either. Just lots and lots of blown out glass."

He put the Impala in reverse. Though he'd have to make a loop to get them back in the right direction, he acted as if he were following the deputy's instructions on how to get back to 23 in case the guy was watching. Once they were out of sight, he got them back on track.

Wild grass on the one side changed in the distance to a forest of trees. Dean rolled the window down to let in the fresh air filled with the scent of evergreens rather than turned earth and crops. It was hard to believe he was actually driving to the site of his grave and his brother's consequent resurrection.

Memories of other visits out here resurfaced as he came near so he was able to make the correct turn to the chained off road their father used to take when he brought them there. Sam stayed in the car while Dean picked the lock, drove the car in, then put it back not quite closed for when they were ready to leave.

There were no signs of other people out there, just them, Baby, and the wide open sky. When they ran out of road, Dean parked and turned the engine off. Sam hadn't said a word the entire time.

"Got your Taurus in the trunk. Want it?"

Sam nodded opening the door but didn't get out. Instead he stared off toward the interior of the woods as if there was something there only he could see.

"Here, take this as well." Dean pulled out the demon killing knife and handed it over.

Sam stared at it for a long moment as if he didn't recognize it then took it from his hand. His knuckles turned white he held onto it so hard.

Dean remembered what it felt like when he first got back. That horrid feeling that at any given moment someone was going to pop out and tell you there'd been a big mistake and your were going back down. Well, his brother wasn't going anywhere. "Big Bro's here, even if he's in little bro's gawky body. You're never going back down there, Sam. Never. I won't allow it."

His brother stared at him in surprise for a moment, then seemed to visibly relax. "I know. Thanks."

"Let's go take a peek and some readings then get out of here."

His brother nodded in agreement and finally got out of the car. Dean quickly followed suit and retrieved the promised PT99 and some flashlights, just in case, out of the trunk. "Now show me where you put me."

Not meeting his gaze, Sam started off into the woods.

The fast fleeting afternoon permeated the place with shadows. Birds sang in blissful contentment, squirrels and chipmunks darting around chattering as they competed for food before turning in for the night. Sam led the way, his back tense and stiff. Dean followed after him.

Unexpected sunlight cleared a path before them not too far in.

Sam spoke, though he didn't turn around to look at him. "This is the outer edge."

Dean looked up ahead and his mind couldn't quite process what he saw for a moment. Trees had toppled over into others, some held half up by their still standing comrades. What was odd, what he was having a hard time taking in was that from there all the trees for as far right or left as he could see were snapped over to the ground. As if something had blown with such force as to snap them then before they could go anywhere slapped them down onto the forest floor.

Following the fallen trees, it was simplicity itself to find the epicenter. Every single trunk was angled toward that direction, almost like a drain. Every single one. No more birds, or squirrels, or chipmunks here, not even a breeze. Almost as if the woods knew something paramount had occurred and was still holding its breath. It was as if he and Sam were the only two living things there.

Then the trees stopped and they were in what would have been a small clearing within the woods. Dean was sure he'd been here before. Hadn't he and Sam found such a place when they were kids? Tall prairie grass lay flattened in the space, totally ringed three hundred and sixty degrees by toppled trees falling away from the spot. Ground Zero. And there, in the middle, he spotted a simple wooden cross and a hole that looked to have burst from beneath.

Just thinking about waking up inside a box buried underground gave him the willies. But not only had that happened to Sam, he'd had to dig his way out or die. Dean shot a glance at his brother, bringing out the still silent EMF reader.

Sam just stood close to the center staring up at the red and orange suffused sky.

"Damn, Sam." Dean knelt down right by the hole, goose pimples racing across his body. "Not much of a welcome back, was it?"

He barely heard the answer when it came.

"No…"


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Dean had now seen both places with his own eyes, even taken cell phone pics of the big one, but instead of making things more real, they actually felt more out of touch. And there'd been nothing at either location. Nothing to help them figure out what the heck was going on. It had him worried.

Revisiting the place of his rebirth had shrunk Sam in on himself, his new body there with him in the Impala, but his mind somewhere far far away. He was still holding onto the demon killing knife, too. With where he'd been and not knowing how he got out, Dean didn't blame him. If those bastards came for him again, though, they wouldn't get him without a fight.

His brother didn't seem to notice when Dean stopped at Jamie's Supermarket and ran in for a loaf of bread, some lunchmeats, cheese, plates and drinks so they could eat once they got back to the motel.

The Lima bean green car was gone from the slot of number seven, so he parked Baby there. Everything else looked the same as before. Though someone had repaired the door as it was closed and was staying that way. The air-conditioning unit hanging from the window was chugging away.

Dean knocked on the door signaling for Sammy to hang back.

It was opened a few seconds later by a pouting Ruby. "Did you bring food?"

He handed over the grocery sack. She took a quick peek inside and sighed. "No fries. What a crock." She pushed the door open further with her foot and moved out of the way so they could come in.

"Oh, Sam, got you a present!" She angled her head toward one of the beds while digging out the food in the grocery bag.

Set out neatly on the comforter were a couple of t-shirts, one blue, one light blue, and couple of outer shirts with stripes of the same color as well as some jeans. There was even an unopened package of underwear and socks, a comb, and a toothbrush.

"You went shopping for him?" It was the last thing Dean would have ever expected her to do.

"Figured he'd want something clean to wear." She pointed to Sam's dirt and sweat crusted clothes.

It was true and he should have probably thought of it himself, but Dean still had a hard time wrapping his head around it.

It must have shown on his face because Ruby's dark eyebrow rose. "I _can_ be thoughtful." She went back to digging in the bag after throwing him a glare. "I also figured we shouldn't stay here after he spiffies up. I've booked us a room at a motel in Pontiac. I'm pretty sure our friends aren't around here."

"Friends?"

It was good to see Sammy paying attention again. "Demons, actually. We were tracking a group of them in Tennessee when they up and split for here. Main reason we were headed this way when you called."

"So they know I'm out…" He didn't look at either of them as he said it.

"Probably." Ruby bunched up the empty grocery bag and pitched it toward the trashcan. "Not much happens down there the top players don't know about." She started making sandwiches.

Ruby being helpful and gracious was unheard of. Maybe the fact Sam was back and that it could mess up her plans, since it took Dean's motivation away to help her, was making her nervous. Should be fun watching her sweat a bit.

His brother just stood as before, staring off into nothing.

"Sam, _dude_, go! You smell, go bathe! Then we'll eat." Dean grabbed the stuff on the bed for him and backed him up into the bathroom. "That's my beautiful bod you're wearing and I want it taken care of proper. So make it look pretty. Go!"

With a shove he dumped the stuff into his startled brother's arms then pulled the bathroom door closed. He couldn't help a chuckle at Sammy's shocked expression as he did it. "There'll be an inspection after so you better work at it!"

A loud boom as the door was kicked from the inside was his only reply. Dean laughed and pumped his right arm in the air. Sammy was freakin' back!

Smiling he walked over to check out Ruby's homemaker skills.

"Our troubles are about to escalate. You know that, right?" Ruby kept her voice low, glancing toward the bathroom door as they heard the shower being turned on.

Dean snatched a sandwich and slumped into the nearest chair. "I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about."

That got him double raised brows and a heavy dose of sarcasm. "Right… Because Lilith is just so going to sit by when one of her souls gets yanked out of the pit without her say so."

"What makes you think she wasn't in on it?"

Ruby shrugged. "How about the fact she sent demons up here to find out what's what? Because if this was her doing, she'd have made damn sure of where he was going to pop out before she did it. And honestly, without some kind of deal, she wouldn't have the power. There are rules."

Yellow Eyes had told him the same when he thanked him for making a deal to bring Sam back. That there were things demons couldn't just do whenever they felt like it. That they were bound by procedures. "Okay, so if Lilith couldn't do it, cause I just can't see anyone making a deal for my brother other than me, what could have?"

"Honestly? I don't have the faintest idea. But something that powerful? I'd want to stay totally out of its way."

Dean took a bite of his pastrami sandwich and chewed while he mulled that over. Then he decided to touch on something else while the two of them were still alone. "By the way, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention anything about what we've been doing to my brother. Sammy's got more than enough to deal with on his plate right now."

Ruby shrugged. "He doesn't need to know if you don't want. Not my problem. But you're not planning on bailing on me are you?"

He took another bite and let her stew a little more as he said nothing.

"Are you?" Her volume rose.

Dean sat abruptly forward swallowing. Sammy finding out was a whole lot less desirable than him not getting to have some fun at Ruby's expense. "Dunno yet. My priority right now is Sam and finding out just what the heck is going on. Everything else is on hold."

He watched her relax just a fraction almost immediately. "Sure. Okay." She picked up a sandwich of her own. "I can see how you might want to go there." She stared at it yet didn't actually eat it. "I could go track down our friends while you deal with the other stuff, if you want. Give you two some more time."

She really was scared! Guess she'd not lied when she told him she couldn't get to Lilith without him and that she was desperate. Now he'd made her more desperate still. "Sounds good." He kept his voice as neutral as possible.

Ruby put the sandwich back down. "Don't underestimate Lilith, Dean. Just because there are other problems cropping up and you have your brother back doesn't mean she'll let bygones be bygones. She holds grudges. Holds them tight."

When he said nothing to that she moved away from the table to grab up her jacket from one of the other chairs. "I'll text you the motel's location. Call me if you have news."

Dean nodded. They might not be friends, but at the moment they were less than enemies. And she'd proven more than once she had skills they could use. With any luck, one of them would find out something.

Ruby gave him a last long sideways look then took off.

Dean wolfed down the rest of his sandwich then turned his chair around so it would face the bathroom door. He locked the door to the room then grabbed another sandwich as well as a Pepsi. He sat back down splaying out his legs, trying to get as comfortable as he could in a chair not made anywhere near for his height and body style and waited for his brother to come out.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"What happened to Ruby?" Sam walked out of the bathroom, a roll of steam following after him. He was looking a lot less grimy than before and had put on the clothes Ruby had bought. Though the style was all Sam, it sure as hell didn't look right on Dean's old form. What the heck had she been thinking buying him a blue and white striped shirt?

His hair didn't look like it had fared too well under Sammy's ministrations either. It was combed, and way too neatly, and parted to the side. They'd need to have a talk about that later. Hell, he had an image to maintain.

"I was seriously thinking about going in there to see if you'd drowned or something. You were in there a mighty long time, dude."

Sam gave him a half shrug. "I was really dirty."

"Foods over there. Eat some." Dean got up and went with him to the small table. "It's all stuff you like."

His brother threw him a look. "You didn't have to."

Dean waved that off. "Least I could do for your first meal back. We'll scrounge up something even better when we get to Pontiac."

"You still didn't answer my question though." Sam grabbed a sandwich but made no move to eat it. "What happened to Ruby?"

"Out doing her thing. Giving us some space." Dean hadn't expected happiness at the prospect, but the scowling, disapproving frown he got instead was a total surprise.

"I still don't get it though. Why are you working with her, Dean? I thought you hated her guts?"

"Duh, I do." He grabbed a Sprite and opened it, sliding it across to his brother.

"Then why…?"

Dean made shoving motions toward Sam's laden but still not moving hand. "No eating no answers. Them's the rules."

A deep sigh was actually followed by a sandwich rising to be eaten. Dean waited until his brother had actually taken several bites before telling him some of what he wanted to know. "Payback. Pure and simple. I didn't want to risk Bobby since we've only got the one knife plus it'd be stupid to go after the sons of bitches alone. She was available and is expendable."

Sam looked away and ate the rest of his sandwich. Dean prompted him to have another by moving one in front of him. His brother actually took it and ate it as well. The third he grabbed all on his own.

While his brother finished, Dean went to snatch up his old clothes from the bathroom. He stopped when he found his skull head bracelet sitting on the edge of the sink along with his lighter, watch and wallet. He couldn't help a grin as he welcomed back his old friends and exchanged them for Sam's. He dumped the clothes by the door then took the swapped possessions into the main room. "Hey, I think these are yours."

Sam glanced over, looking confused until he spotted the articles in Dean's hands. "You kept them." With an eager look Sam quickly reclaimed his things.

"And why wouldn't I? You kept mine." Dean reached up and touched his amulet.

Sadness and something darker flashed across his face then it was gone. "Yeah. I guess I did."

Dean waited to see if he'd say anything else, but he didn't. "You want more food? If not we should probably get going. Want to make sure we're set up in Pontiac by the time Bobby gets there." The text from Ruby with the address had come through while Dean was still waiting for Sam to finish cleaning up and he'd forwarded it on.

"No, I'm done."

"Sweet!" He grabbed up Sam's dirty clothes again. "Paid up front or do I need to take care of it?"

"Had some cash from the gas station. Room's paid." He fished a not quite empty plastic bag from the other side of the TV to put the leftovers in. Still nestled inside were a half empty bottle of water and several health bars.

Dean had to fight down an urge to shiver, imagining Sam feeding his poor body such tasteless crap. Looked like there would be a whole slew of unpleasant things he might have to get used to. He glanced up into Sam's face – dammit, it would be worth it. And weirdest of all was the fact that though he was looking at his own mug, all the little details, how he moved his eyes, the set of his lips, every last bit of it screamed Sam to him.

They piled into the car and were soon on their way. Dean turned on the tunes but kept them low in case Sam wanted to talk. His brother looked a hundred times better now that he was clean and fed. He'd even relaxed a little. He was sure the two of them being together doing nothing but driving to their next motel in mind, was as soothing to his brother as it was to him. This more than anything shouted out they were back together again, of things having been put back to a semblance of what they'd once been. And it was great. A perfect moment. One he wished he could keep from passing, but knew he couldn't.

They'd been on the road a little over fifteen minutes, the stars and moon now shinning down on the passing fields, when he noticed Sam was slumped somewhat on the bench seat, head lolling against the back. His brother had fallen asleep.

Dean wasn't sure why he was surprised. Shit, digging yourself out of your own brother's grave was bound to tire a guy out. And that's before adding in the whole pulled from Hell business.

He was going to hate to have to wake him up once they got to Pontiac which was just another fifteen minutes or so away.

He shouldn't have worried. Sam woke himself up just when they hit town by screaming at the top of his lungs in terror.

Dean almost swiped a Chevy 4X4 trying to pull Baby to the curve so he could stop.

"Sam!" Dean reached over for him and met resistance, his brother fighting him, eyes and mouth open but not really seeing him. "Dude, it's okay! You're not there anymore. Sam!"

Dean got an elbow to the face as he jammed himself in closer, desperate to grab of hold of his brother before his frenzied panic somehow opened the door and he bolted. Dean slapped at the overhead light to switch it on, hoping that might help dispel wherever his brother thought he was.

"Sammy, come on! Sammy, _stop_!"

Another hit set his ears ringing. This was getting ridiculous. But he'd also seen it before. Way way long ago. As a kid, Sammy's nightmares had had a tendency of grabbing hold deep and not letting go when he woke. Yet he'd not been this bad in forever, not even when he kept having dreams about Jessica that first year after her death.

Dean finally was able to grab hold of Sam's hands. Locking his wrists in one oversized grip, Dean grabbed his head with the other hand and forced him to look at him. "Sam! Snap out of it. _Sam!_"

It was weird seeing his own face with eyes open too wide by pure, unadulterated fear. He was pretty sure he'd felt if not looked that way plenty of times while downstairs. He was strangely comforted right then that Sam wasn't in his body so Dean wouldn't actually see the expression with Sam's real face. Somehow it was easier to take it being his own, as if not really involving Sammy.

His brother whimpered low in his throat, his eyes blinking rapidly. Slowly they seemed to focus on him and actually _see_ him. "D-Dean?"

His voice was rough and edged and filled with horrid need.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's me." Dean had to work around a growing lump in his throat. "It was just a nightmare, man."

Sam went limp for a moment, eyes closed, then abruptly sat up straight almost smacking Dean in the head with his. "Let go…"

It was only when he spoke that Dean realized he was still holding onto him. He released him and backed up in the seat, never taking his gaze from him, trying to make sure he was okay.

He caught movement out past Sam on the sidewalk. There was a couple half hunkered down trying to look inside. The woman noticed him looking and mouthed at him if everything was okay.

He nodded and held a thumbs up sign, trying to give them one of Sammy's disarming smiles. Sam must have noticed as well because he held up his own thumb though he never looked at them.

"You really okay?" His brother looked totally awake and in control but Dean had to ask anyway. Maybe it would prompt Sam to say something.

"Yeah. Fine. Like you said, just a nightmare." His voice was raspy and he wouldn't look his way. He said nothing else.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

It was the freakin' coolest hotel _ever_! A multistoried looking brownstone reject but it had a giant vertical marquee that ran a full three stories. The Astoria Hotel was written on it in glorious neon. Seven stars, though only six were lit. But you could see that sucker blocks away.

And then they went into the lobby.

Neon Nirvana! It was _everywhere_. In the shapes of shoes, palm trees, dirigibles, all sorts of things. Dean saw Sam make a face, scrunching his eyes as if all the neon bothered him. Sammy never could appreciate the finer things. Ignoring him, Dean snuggled up to the front desk, admiring its curves framed in red and blue neon stripes. Gorgeous!

The elevator was even better. There was neon of different colors all over it, and it reflected off the mirrors on the sides. Made him feel like he'd boarded a space ship or something. Fantastic!

But when the elevator doors opened he could feel disappointment nipping at his heels. The hallway was dark paneled wood, with dark wood doors, no neon to be seen. The only upside was that each door had the number printed on red cutouts of the four suits in a card pack. He didn't dare get his hopes up about the room itself.

He shouldn't have worried. It was as if they'd taken the details straight out of his mind. If he'd had a real camera, he would have taken pictures.

The set up was simple. One big room with sleeper sofas plus chairs and tables a plenty, and the bathroom off to the side. Yet what was there was top notch. The entire ceiling was covered in mirrors. There were these awesome lamps in red cloth made out like pyramids that looked sweet next to the black leather chairs. Brown and yellow tiger print wallpaper with a dark red carpet, the couch a bright ass lime green to keep you awake as you went about your business. Even big dark green cushions you could roll around with on the floor.

He couldn't believe Ruby was the one who'd picked this place. He really wasn't giving her due credit on things. Damn. "Can you believe this place? This rules!"

He saw Sam throw him a disbelieving look. "You didn't just say that."

"Oh, I did." It was the little touches that really made a place. Only thing missing was some magic fingers. He'd have to make a suggestion on that with the front desk. Dean stared up at the ceiling again. Damn, it was too bad there was no way he'd get to try the place out. This celibacy shit sucked!

He watched Sam's lip curl with distaste as he shuffled about the place.

Maybe he could fix that…

"Hey, uh, Sammy?"

"Yeah?" His brother had just turned on the light into the bathroom and quickly backed away as if it'd tried to bite him. Oh, looked like that might be awesome too!

"You know, since this body isn't mine, I've been really behaving myself, but…" He watched as Sam turned around to look at him a frown already growing on his face and Dean hadn't even got this out yet. He'd better step on it. "Would it be okay if I went ahead and used it for recreational purposes?"

Sam stared blankly at him for a moment then his whole face tried to crawl back as he stared at him with disgust. "Are you _kidding me_?"

Should have expected this. Dean shrugged. "Dude, it's not like I won't have to service it either way. So why not do it with a girl and have some fun instead of just my hand? I expect you to do the same for mine."

"I've been back for less than a day and you throw this at me? Jesus, Dean!"

He could have sworn his brother actually looked green around the gills. Dean stared at him in surprise. He hadn't thought it'd be that big a deal. "It's not like I was asking you to watch or something."

"Ugh! Would you just drop this already?" He flicked his hands around as if trying hard to get something off of them. "You can be so stupidly moronic at times."

Dean tried to suppress the spike of irritation that came with the proclamation but it wasn't having any of that. Dammit, he'd just asked a damn simple question. Trying to be 'sensitive' for once. For him. Why did Sam have to get all drama queen on him about it for? "Oh, _right back_ at you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" The tone of challenge was unmistakable.

His mistake. "You want to know what? I'll tell you what." Before he realized what he was doing, Dean was all up in his brother's personal space. He rather liked the feeling of looking down at him. Something he'd not been able to do since Sam turned sixteen. "It's you, after I've saved your ass and made sure you'll be taken care of, going off and stabbing me in the back by making a deal and getting your sorry ass thrown into the pit."

The anger that flashed across Sam's new face was hot and fierce, making his nostrils flare and his upper lip twitch with it. "I never asked you to do that for me!" He stepped in close putting them barely an inch apart from one another. "_You had no right_. If you'd just left things alone, I'd a never --" Sam's mouth clamped shut like a vault door. Fists coiled at his sides he stepped back and turned his back on him, his shoulders stiff.

Dean's irritation was snuffed out like a candle. "You'd never what?"

"I need to use the bathroom." Sam stomped off, and giving Dean only a glance at blood red dripping walls as he went inside, slammed the door closed, shutting him out.

That could have gone better.

Dammit, he just wasn't made for this shit. And though he couldn't quite say why, something about the thing Sam hadn't said gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Dean busied himself putting stuff away in drawers and salting the door and windows. The duck tape devil's traps on the dark red carpet stood out like ugly warning signs, if anyone actually bothered to look. He didn't want to take any chances at the moment, not with something they knew nothing about possibly gunning for his brother – on top of the usual crew that was.

No sounds came from the other side of the bathroom door and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Maybe he'd rushed the whole sex thing, but damn, it'd been months! Longer really since for a while before he became puppy chow there'd just been no time to indulge with too many other things to worry about. This'd been his longest dry streak ever!

And how was he to have known Sam would blow it so out of proportion like this.

Shit! Just what was his brother doing in there? The impulse to storm over to the door and pick or kick in the lock kept strumming through him. He needed to see him. He needed to make sure Sam was actually there, back topside! It was way easier to believe without constant affirmation that it'd all been a delusion probably caused by his mucking about with Sam's powers. Or worse…

His brother wasn't going to have an easy time of it. Dean knew this only too well and he'd only spent a short time downstairs. He wasn't sure he could manage what Bobby had for him though. Getting drunk in this body was the pits, so that technique to ease into things was out. And he knew just how stubborn Sam could be. Waiting for him to decide to talk about it could take months, if not years. The damage sitting inside him, festering, making him continue to suffer though he was free.

His brother was all about sharing feelings and whatnot, as long as they weren't his.

Dean still probably wouldn't know about Sam's visions about Jess before she died if he'd not been so desperate to make Dean believe him when he foresaw the death of Max's dad. Sam could be a real tight lipped son of a bitch. Yet Bobby had insisted the sooner someone could unload, the sooner they could start dealing. God, he'd probably have to share first to get the ball rolling. Just the thought of it made his shoulders twitch.

Perhaps he could find some other way of doing this.

Grabbing Sam's old laptop, Dean sat down in the nearest chair and ran a search. What he found didn't much improve his mood. There wasn't a lot out there and what there was all of it said it boiled down to sooner or later helping the victim to get things off their chest and having someone listen and accept them regardless. It was all touchy feely crap!

Maybe he could get Bobby to do it for him…

He felt ashamed almost the moment the thought hit his brain. Bobby had already gone through more than enough for the two of them. And if this wasn't something big brothers were supposed to take care of for their younger siblings, what was?

He needed to nip this in the bud before Sam buried it so deep Dean would never be able to pry it out again. He couldn't let his old bod go around looking angsty and maudlin all the time just because Sam wasn't talking. It'd be too wrong.

Dean was just starting to feel a little stir crazy and worried, when the door to the bathroom finally opened again. Sam came out not looking one bit like he'd been in there for the last couple of hours avoiding him. "Does this place have room service? I'm kind of thirsty."

Dean stayed where he was and set the laptop off to the side. "Hey, Sammy, about before…I was just trying to be, you know…" He tried to let a one sided shrug convey everything he didn't rightly know how to say.

His brother nodded, gaze glued to the floor. "Don't worry about it. It was my fault. I overreacted. It's your body now and you should be able to do whatever you want to with it."

For some reason, this didn't reassure Dean in the least. It was like Sammy was wearing a sign around his neck saying 'Winchester Martyr' on it or something. It had to stop. But how to make it? "So, did they talk about me down there?"

Dean stretched out his long legs, trying to appear relaxed though he was anything but.

Sam crossed the room to the phone, ignoring the question, and stared at the list of numbers on the plastic stand up card beside it. Dean watched him intently.

"I'm sure I made some kind of impression, right?"

He felt the temperature in the room drop literally ten degrees in twenty seconds.

"Dean…" The warning tone to drop the topic or things would get ugly was as loud as the neon sign outside the window was bright.

This was so _not_ going to be fun. "Surely…Alistair…had a thing or two to say about me." Dean kept his tone as light as humanly possible, though just saying that thing's name sent tingles of fear shooting down his spine.

"Dean!" Sam grabbed the whole phone and slammed it hard onto the table making the thing give out an injured ring. "Whatever it is you think you're trying to do, _stop it!_"

Sam's whole body shook. Looked like he'd hit a nerve alright.

"Dude, you're already having nightmares and who knows what else. PTSD's don't just go away, believe me, and you were down there a whole lot longer than I was. You gotta deal with what happened. And the sooner the better."

His brother abruptly turned from the table and headed for the door not even sparing a glance in Dean's general direction. "I'm going out."

Dean jumped to his feet and leapt over the coffee table to cut him off at the door. "Like hell you are! You said something is out there looking for you. No way you're going anywhere alone."

Sam glared at him. "That's right. Some_ thing_ is after me, yet you decide _now_ is the best time to try to get me to talk about things? That can wait! Instead we should be staying focused on the here and now!"

His brother's arms were splayed to either side as if asking him to take a shot. Dean had seen the pose plenty enough to know it meant Sam was going to be super bullheaded. He hadn't actually driven Sam over the edge though, so violence wouldn't come into the picture. Yet. But if that's what it took to get to where they needed to go, that was fine with him.

Dean opened his mouth tell Sammy about just what was really important _here_ and _now_ when there was a knock on the door behind him. He half turned in surprise and felt Sam take the opportunity to move away.

Crap.

Dean brusquely opened the door. "_What_?"

"Uh, nice to see you too, sunshine." Bobby gave him a half eye roll, not looking too impressed.

"Shit! Sorry, Bobby." Dean backed up and opened the door wider to let his friend in throwing a look at the clock on the far table. "You made fantastic time."

Bobby chuckled. "You're not the only one who can break traffic laws." The old hunter took a couple of steps inside then froze.

Dean saw his gaze glue itself to Sam's slumped form on the green couch by the window, a wash of red neon partially obscuring his brother's face. The old hunter's whole body tensed.

"Bobby." Sam sent an acknowledging nod his direction.

Dean grabbed the hunter by the arm with both of his as the latter dropped his duffel and reached for the inside of his coat. "It's him! It's okay. Sammy's out! This was the surprise I told you about."

Bobby sent him an unsure questioning glance, his hand coming out with one of his small silver decanters of holy water.

"Dude, I'm sure. Tested him and everything myself. He's the real deal. Sammy's back!" Dean closed the room's door with his foot, still keeping a tight hold on his friend's arm.

The doubt was clear in Bobby's expression as he glanced in Sam's direction again. "How?"

"We're still working on that," Dean admitted. "Figured you might be able to help."

He quickly filled Bobby in on what little they knew, showing him the pictures he took with his cell phone of the grave area.

Bobby dropped into one of the leather chairs, rubbing at his face. "Holy shit."

"That about covers it." Dean then turned to look at his brother. He'd been silent during the entire debriefing, mostly staring out the window. Dean didn't like it. Sam tended to over think things. And he was sure nothing he could be thinking about right now could be good. "Sam, show him the mark."

With obvious reluctance, his brother rose to his feet and walked over toward them. Not looking at either of them, he removed his outer shirt from his left arm then raised the t-shirt sleeve up to the shoulder.

Dean half flinched, not liking the look of the thing any better the second time.

"What in the hell?" Bobby got up and came up close staring at the thing. "And you've no idea what did this?"

Sam shook his head not looking at him. He pulled the sleeve back down and fixed his shirt.

Bobby put his hand on Sam's shoulder. Everyone pretended not to notice when it made his brother's body go totally stiff. "It's good to have you back."

Sam frowned staring hard at the floor, but eventually met Bobby's dark stare with his own. "Thanks."

Bobby let him go. "How are you feeling?"

Dean watched Sam's gaze roam back and forth for a moment as if giving it some serious thought. "Awkward."

"I suppose that's to be expected, with the body swap and all, but… Ignoring that part, do you feel strange or different?"

Sam's expression went blank. "No. Why?"

Since his brother wasn't looking at him, Dean had seen the jolt of pure fear before it was clamped down behind the mask. Now what the hell was that about?

"Just worried," Bobby said. "Though I'm glad as hell you're out, no demon would lift you loose out of the goodness of their heart." The old hunter's face turned deadly serious. "They gotta have something nasty planned."

Hearing him say that made Dean's heart skip a beat. "Well, whatever it is, we're not gonna let it happen." He threw as much conviction as possible into his words and made sure to look at Sam dead in the face as he said them.

His brother's blank expression slipped a little, showing a maelstrom of emotions blowing inside.

Had Sam lied? Did he feel strange or different? Dean mentally kicked himself having sworn some time ago that YED's shot about Sam coming back different was a total lie. He'd let those damn words undermine his confidence in Sammy and dip him in fear for much too damn long. If he could come back as himself from the pit, so could his brother.

"Without information, we're not going to be able to stop squat."

Dean didn't know whether to be pissed at Sam's negativity or be thrilled he'd said 'we'.

Bobby fidgeted with his cap's bill. "I do know a psychic who lives a few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

That was a thought. Surely whatever had created such damage and devastation at his gravesite had made an impression on something somewhere. Dean felt a burst of hope. "Hell, yeah! It's worth a shot."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Bobby made the call and minutes later they were on their way. Whether planned or not – as if, the guy had just finished driving five plus hours at stop speeds and had to be exhausted – Bobby maneuvered things so that they took two cars rather than one, pushing Sam and Dean together.

Sam didn't protest the obvious plotting and slid inside the Impala. Dean sent a nod Bobby's way then got in himself.

No words passed between them as Dean started up the car and followed dutifully in Bobby's wake. A half hour into the trip and his brother was still sitting half turned away from him staring out into the darkness rolling by.

"You've been awfully quiet." Dean glanced over at him, wondering if he was brooding about their argument earlier.

Sam shrugged. "Didn't have anything to say."

Though he knew it wouldn't help anything, Dean couldn't keep his brother's off handed attitude from annoying the shit out of him. "I just got you back, dude… Don't do this."

"Then quit riding me!" Sam's fist smashed the dash the sound echoing in the confines of the car.

His brother was definitely volatile. Unhappily reminded Dean of Sam the first few months after Jessica died. He'd been a powder keg looking for any excuse to blow and it'd gotten worse the longer it took them to find their father. Maybe Sam needed to vent. Dean just hoped he'd survive it. "I'm only trying to help you, dude. It's not like I don't know what went on. I was there. I know what you went through."

"You were there what, a measly three years? And you think you _know_ what I went through?" The acid bitterness was thick. "I was there close to forty years, Dean. _Forty years_! You don't have the _faintest_ idea about _anything_." The dismissive laugh and flash of a crooked humorless grin chilled Dean's blood.

He stared out into the road, trying to hide a horrified expression. Forty years. Forty fucking years! He couldn't imagine it. Hell, it was ten years more than he'd even been alive!

The memory of Alistair's sadistic laugh echoed unwanted in his head and made him break out in hives. Putting up with that for three years had been sickening. What would it be like to do it for forty years? For almost half a century! Surely it would have driven Dean rubber room mad. So what might it have done to his brother?

As if to answer his question, Sam pounded his fist once more against the dash. His forehead was pressed against the passenger window, not once having bothered to glance in Dean's direction through the entire thing.

Staring at him from the corner of his eye, Dean could see the muscle at Sam's jaw jumping. It didn't escape him that his brother's other hand was hovering mighty close to the handle of the door. The way things seemed at the moment, he wouldn't put it past him to decide to jump out of the car though they were going seventy or more. Anything to get away from answering questions.

Dean decided it might be best not to speak again for the rest of the drive and left his brother to his thoughts. He knew he'd be plenty occupied by his own.

So it was with a gushing amount of relief when a little over three hours later he spotted Bobby pulling over before a two story house in a quaint suburban neighborhood.

"I think we're here." Dean pulled the Impala to a stop across the street in front of a neighborhood park.

He braved a glance in his brother's direction. Sam had straightened up in the seat and put his game face on. Dean had hoped he might sleep some, knowing Sam had had little to no rest, but his brother had been way too coiled up for it. The whole damn drive Dean had felt the tension shooting off of him in waves. It'd not been what Dean intended, but there'd been a lot of that going around lately.

They both got out of the car and met Bobby across the street. The old hunter raised a brow in their direction as if sensing that something was wrong between them. Dean wouldn't meet his gaze not having the faintest idea what to say on the subject.

Once they'd joined him, Bobby turned around and knocked on the dark green door.

A woman with dark curling shoulder length hair opened it, smiled warmly and then laughed with pleasure as she saw who was there. Dean felt his brow go up as she hugged her old friend low in the back, squeezed for all she was worth and even lifted Bobby off of the ground for a second. Not the type of exuberance you'd expect from just seeing an old 'friend'.

Not thinking about it, Dean sent a look in Sam's direction, and found his brother doing the same. They both shared a moment, and Dean felt suddenly ten times better than he had mere seconds ago at the mutual exchange.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." Bobby stepped back a little, a slightly embarrassed smile in his voice and face.

The woman stood with arms crossed over a sleeveless dark tee, giving the brothers a quick look up and down. "So, are these the boys?"

"Sam, Dean…Pamela Barnes. Best damn psychic in the state." The note of admiration in his voice was rare for Bobby. Dean took it as a good sign they might be able to get some damn answers. The sooner he knew what had messed with his brother and brought him up, the sooner he could take care of it.

Dean watched her strip Sam down with her eyes, which gave him a boost of pride since it was his old body she was admiring. It was somewhat amusing too, watching Sam cheeks flush with color as he noticed what she was doing. His brother mumbled a half chocked 'Hey'.

Trying not to let his delight at Sam's discomfiture show, Dean followed it with a much more enthusiastic greeting of his own. "Hi!"

He was surprised when she then partially cocked her head and gave him the same body raking treatment, a little frown forming just between her brows. Approval noises rang from Pamela's smiling mouth though as she looked from them to Bobby. Bobby's answering wide eyed look seemed to be saying for her to watch it. And he didn't seem a bit surprised at her hungry attitude either. Looked like there might be some things Bobby forgot to mention about the 'best psychic in the state'.

Pamela appeared amused at Bobby's silent admonition as she turned her attentions back to them again. "Body swapping as well as _both_ having spent some time in nether regions. I think you neglected telling me a couple of things on the phone, didn't you, Bobby?"

"Sorry, lot on my mind." He didn't sound all that apologetic.

Dean wasn't sure if he'd not told her to keep their secrets or just to see what she'd make of them on her own. Whichever it was, he was convinced this woman might be just what they needed.

"Makes the two of you extremely singular individuals." She made it sound like they were a rare type of candy she couldn't wait to lick.

"We didn't ask for _any_ of it."

Sam's vehement reply was a shock. His brother looked even more surprised by the heated reply than the rest of them, and he was the one who'd made it. Though Dean supposed as bad as his brother had always wanted to be normal, being labeled History Making Unique would probably not be something he was looking for.

"Sorry." He looked contrite.

But the whole thing, rather than make her back off or seem offended, only appeared to egg Pamela on. "Don't worry about it. I sometimes have that effect on people." Her smile, if anything, grew even brighter. "Come on in."

She stepped back so they could move past her into the house. She laughed and patted Bobby on the arm as he went past.

Dean considered whether he should be worried about what else the woman might pick up about them. While not too worried about her figuring out the secret about his powers, unless she told Sam, he was more interested in whether or not she could catch a glimpse of Sam's and maybe help him with it.

The fact his brother was doing his usual and was hanging back to let Dean through first though this whole visit was supposed to be about him, made him wonder if his brother was thinking the same thing.

"So, did you hear anything?" Bobby asked.

Sam sidled past the psychic and she turned to close the door behind them.

Pamela sighed. "Well, I ouijied my way through a dozen spirits." She turned to face them, her black painted nails gleaming as she crossed her arms again. "No one seems to know who broke your boy out or why."

Bobby nodded. "So what's next?"

"Ah, a séance I think." She glanced at Sam and Dean. "See if we can see who did the deed."

That should prove interesting.

Bobby was of a different opinion. "You're…not gonna summon the damn thing here… Are you?"

Pamela laughed. "No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal." She poked Bobby in the stomach as she sauntered past.

Dean threw in his two cents. "I'm game." Getting his hands on the damn thing didn't bother him one bit. Sam stayed silent, though this whole thing centered around him.

Bobby sighed heavily behind them, still not looking convinced.

Pamela led them to a large room in the back of the house. A round table adorned in a dark red table cloth dominated the center. It matched the fabric of the sofa nestled by the windows and the chairs set around it. Dean nodded in appreciation at the velvet painting of a rock star making love to his guitar in glorious black and white which hung high up on her wall. Bobby walked to the windows to draw the heavy red drapes, cutting off the view from the outside. Pamela spread out a black cloth over the table, one with a stylized pentacle surrounded by a five sided pentagram with other symbols etched onto it.

Dean followed Pamela with his gaze, her looks not hurting his eyes one bit. He watched her squat in front of a black cabinet which was filled with different colored candles. Her shirt rode up her back as she went down, exposing a tattoo just above the brim of her jeans. It said 'Jesse Forever'. He elbowed Sam, barely looking at him, so he could get in on the action. "Who's Jesse?"

Pamela laughed and glanced back at him, holding candles in both hands. "Well, it wasn't forever."

The man was a total fool. "His loss." Dean laughed. Damn, he hadn't felt like flirting with anyone in ages. This was awesome.

It become more awesome still as she responded with one of her hungry looks in return and said, "Might be your gain."

As she walked off Dean couldn't help throwing a glance in Sam's direction to see if he'd caught all that. His brother looked not only amazed but amused as well. It only made Dean feel that much better. "Dude, I'm so glad you gave me permission, because I am so in!"

All the weirdness and badness was out the window for that one moment as he saw Sam pressing his tongue against his cheek trying to keep from laughing. "Yeah, she's going to eat you alive."

"This desert needs a little rain, man. It's been too damn long. Bring it on!"

He was sure he almost made Sam lose it. Would have been a blast if he actually had. Damn, coming here had been genius.

Pamela swung back by. "You're invited too, grumpy." She winked at Sam.

Dean didn't know whether to be happy for his old bod and his brother who'd done without a whole lot longer than him or just damn mad. Fuck it! He wanted it bad. He raised a warning finger. "You're not invited!"

Sam smiled at this. He bloody ass smiled! Shit, coming here was the best thing ever!

"A couple of ground rules before we get this going, guys." Dean unwillingly turned to give her his attention as she sauntered to another cabinet to take out a large black candle holder. "When we do this thing, I'll need you to keep your minds blank and your eyes closed. Don't break the circle no matter what happens. Just think of the usual mumbo jumbo in all the old horror flicks. Not everything on TV is a lie."

Smiling as she left them with that little tidbit, Pamela set six thick white candles into the black holder which she then set inside the central star on the table cloth. She indicated for Bobby to sit at the head of the pentacle. Dean sat at the bottom next to Sam and she settled herself between Sam and Bobby.

After a moment, the psychic closed her eyes and touched her forehead with her right middle finger and her chest as if focusing on points of power. Dean hoped this would work. "Right…" She brought her hands down. "Take each other's hands."

Bobby's were already on the table, a look of resignation on his face. Dean wondered what he was afraid of. Maybe it was the fact they'd all have to hold hands. It was just so _gay_. Reluctantly, he put his hands on the table and let them gravitate toward the others but he didn't do any of the actual hand grabbing. Though he would never tell anyone in a thousand years, it was a little reassuring when Sam took his. It pointed out yet again to his stupidly doubting brain that yes, Sam was here. For real.

"And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched." Pamela's right hand went under the table.

Sam's knee banged up suddenly against the wood, making a resounding sound. Color rose up his neck in a flood and pretty much engulfed his face. "You…No…Uh…"

Pamela laughed, obviously not sorry in the least despite what she said next. "Oh, it didn't touch you there? My mistake."

Dean cracked up. Totally could not _help_ himself. The look on Sam's face, well his old face, but whatever, was just too damn funny to resist. Wish he'd had a camera. Heck, even Bobby had a hard time keeping a straight face. Sam sent Dean a death glare followed by raised brows for emphasis silently telling him to shut the fuck up.

Then, not looking at any of them, Sam took off his outer white and blue striped shirt and exposed the tee underneath. He grabbed the sleeve of his left arm and exposed the burned hand print.

Pamela placed her hand over it, her expression totally serious. Sam took Dean's hand again and placed his left one over Bobby's, who had already taken Pamela's. This formed the circle with Pamela connected to it through Sam's burn and Bobby's hand.

She closed her eyes again as she started to chant. "I invoke, conjure, and command you – appear unto me before this circle."

Dean closed his eyes though he was loath to, not liking that he wouldn't see something coming if anything weird started happening. Sam had to be kept safe.

Pamela repeated her chant but with a little more force as if pushing against something.

As she finished the words for the second time, a TV came on somewhere behind them and to her left. Dean made sure to keep his eyes closed despite the ginormous temptation to look. Pamela continued on as if it meant nothing and chanted the words again. He felt something brush his cheek then the table began to quiver beneath his resting arms. A thin shrill sound filled the air.

He heard Pamela hesitate.

"Castiel? No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

"Castiel?" Who the heck was that? Dean opened his eyes. Pamela and everyone else still had theirs closed.

"Its name. It's whispering, warning me to turn back."

As in a _threat_? Bastard! So the thing which liberated his brother had a name. Names had power.

Pamela started her chant for the fourth time.

The heckles on the back of Dean's neck rose. If the thing was threatening Pamela though, what would it do? What could it do? Better question might be what couldn't it do, since it had enough power in its arsenal to drag a soul from the pit. Maybe this would end up being more than they bargained for. But as a psychic she would know what she could and couldn't handle, wouldn't she?

The table's rocking grew more pronounced as Pamela's chant of commands upon what had branded Sam grew more insistent. Dean's hunter instincts were screaming. He'd seen plenty of ghosts hurl plenty of things, but the feeling on this one was different.

The candle flames flickered from a non-existent breeze.

Bobby's eyes also popped open, though Sam's and Pamela's were still closed. Her grip on Sam's arm was tight as a steel clamp. Bobby didn't look any more confident about the direction things were going than he did. And he said so. "Maybe we should stop."

Dean more than agreed with him. "Something's not right."

"I almost got it." Pamela sounded confident, as if all the weirdness around them was common place. And while Dean was sure that it probably was; it still didn't dampen his feelings of impending doom any.

Sam opened his eyes and Dean could tell from his expression that he was having second thoughts as well. Despite their misgivings, Pamela's commands rang out again.

Suddenly, the flame of the six candles shot up several feet into the air, washing them with the scent of melting wax and a wave of unexpected heat.

Pamela shrieked and even through the column of fire Dean saw her eyes momentarily glow brighter than the candles themselves then erupt with flames as if being consumed from within. Her piercing scream died moments later only to continue echoing in his head. The stench of burned flesh rose around them as her eyelids closed, blood running from beneath them, and she collapsed, falling to the floor.

The blaze from the candles fell back to normal levels.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dean had leapt from his chair and gone around to try and help her. He bumped past Sam and threw a look back at him. His brother was pale as death, his eyes dilated, and he could hear him struggling to breathe. A bolt of utter fear shot through Dean. Had this thing done something to his brother as well? "Sam?"

When Dean touched him, Sam jumped as if slapped. He turned his head and seemed to grab hold of himself, his eyes focusing on the here and now. Had what happened to Pamela triggered a flashback? Had Sam seen something like this before? Shit! "Dude, you okay?"

Sam nodded quickly, lips pressed into a tight line.

"One of you, call 9-1-1!"

"I will." Sam bolted for the front of the house.

Dean watched him for a second to make sure he'd make it then turned to help Bobby with his friend. Vile rose up his throat at the heavy cloying smell of charred flesh as it coiled around him. Righteous anger rose and twisted inside. She'd just wanted to look at the thing. Why the fuck burn her eyes out for it? What was this thing?

The two of them picked Pamela up from both sides and gently brought her over to the couch. Cooked goo and blood made lines down her face as if she wept for the destruction of her sight. It was not an image he would soon forget…

He swore wordlessly right then and there that someone would pay for it.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

When the paramedics came, Bobby insisted the two of them go on back to Pontiac and wait for him there. Though Dean hadn't known her long, Pamela got hurt trying to help them, trying to help his brother, and just leaving didn't sit right with him. Sam of all people though had insisted they go, that there was nothing they could do but get in the way.

He didn't like it, but Dean went along with it. Causing Bobby grief wouldn't help Pamela anyhow and he owed Bobby too much as it was. If he'd thought there'd been a pall hanging over them on the drive down, though, it was nothing to what they carried with them now. Even the damn sunlight filtering in through the windshield bugged him. A friggin' storm full of rain and lightning would have much better fit his mood than this calm, sunny weather. Not that there wasn't one hovering inside the car in their own minds, but it would have been nice for Mother Nature to have been on the same page as them.

The black top road just went on and on, Baby eating up the miles as they pretty much ran with their tails between their legs.

Worst part of the fiasco was that they'd pretty much come away with nothing. Only a name. "Does Castiel, whatever or whoever the hell it is, mean anything to you, Sam?"

His brother was huddled against the passenger door on the bench seat almost in the same exact position he'd been most of the trip down. At least whatever Sam was feeling wasn't directed at him this time.

"Sam?"

His brother finally moved his forehead off the passenger window and glanced over at him. There was a red spot now on his forehead. This was _not_ a flattering look for Dean's old bod. "Uh, no. I've never heard the name before."

"Any ideas on what could do something like that?"

Sam shook his head no longer directly looking at him. "Not up here."

That didn't sound in the least bit peachy. Dean felt his eye twitch, knowing only too well the kinds of things they got away with downstairs. With fake bodies and no such thing as physics, it was a free for all.

"Dean…this thing, this thing that's after me, that brought me back… We've never dealt with something with this kind of power. We're in way over heads here."

"Yeah, so?" He glanced over at Sam. "What else is new? We'll find a way. We always do."

His brother shook his head again. "I don't think so. What I, what I do believe though is that maybe everyone would be better off if I took off on my own. If I'm what it wants…then maybe it'll… it'll come after me and once it gets me it would all be over."

"You've got to be _fucking kidding me_!" Dean yanked the Impala off the road. The smell of burning rubber and tendrils of black smoke swirled about the car as they screeched to a body jerking stop in the emergency lane. "What the hell, dude? I just got your sorry ass back!"

"I'm just trying to be realistic, Dean."

"Bullshit!" He almost reached across the seat and grabbed his brother by the collar. How could he say such crap?

Sam's pressed lips thinned and his jaw locked as his expression turned stubborn. "You saw what it did to Pamela. It could just as easily been anyone of us. But I'm the one that's marked, I'm the one that should suffer. Not you, not Bobby, not anyone."

"That's not your decision to make." Dean smacked his open hand on the back of the bench seat. "And no way am I leaving you to the mercies of this thing. _No freakin' way_."

His brother stared at him as if checking for just how much he might mean what he was saying, as if he didn't believe him. Dean went from heavily annoyed to angry, and if Sammy didn't watch what he said next it'd be a short trip to furious. He'd hogtie his stinking ass and throw him in the trunk if he even tried for the door.

"I'm not supposed to be here, Dean. I was never meant to get out."

Dean waved his hand to swat that aside, because it meant nothing. "I'm the one who shouldn't be here! I'm the one that's already had more chances at life than he was ever supposed to get. And if you'd left things alone like _I asked you to_, you would never have been down there in the first place!"

Sam's gaze locked with his. "But you're not the one who said 'yes'."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

His brother pulled back, half turning away from him, but not before Dean saw the tears glinting in his eyes. "I don't want to talk about this anymore…"

"The hell you're not!" This time he did give in to his impulse. Dean reached out and grabbed Sam's shirt and yanked him across the seat toward him. "Quit with all the cryptic crap. Tell me what you meant by that!"

Sam looked him dead in the face. "I'm a monster, all right? That's what I meant."

As Dean stared at his brother in confusion, Sam batted his hand away.

"All of your and Dad's worries about my going dark side because of my powers were crap. I never needed powers to turn into what I _really_ am."

There was no doubt, no hesitation in that statement. For the first time Dean started thinking maybe he didn't want to hear where this was going. "You're just talking shit! I was down there. I know what it's like. Three years or forty years, I understand, and going through this doesn't make you a monster or a freak."

Sam raised his chin high as if to expose his throat and bear all, the whole time keeping his gaze on Dean's face. "Unless I took Alistair up on his offer."

As the words rang inside his head Dean found he suddenly couldn't get enough air. "Sammy, no. You…you…didn't…" The Impala seemed to be shrinking in around him. This wasn't possible. Sam was so much stronger than him in so many ways, so much more independent. He cared for people so much more than he did.

His brother laughed. It was a broken sound. "I _did_. Thirty years and change before I caved, but I did. And I tortured lots and lots of people so I wouldn't be. And I _enjoyed_ it. A monster in every sense of the word." Sam brought his face in close. There was a manic look in his eyes Dean had never seen before. "What do you think about my being back now, Dean? Still willing to do whatever it takes on my behalf?"

Dean's brain went numb. He couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. Sammy, _his_ Sammy, torturing people? Liking it? The same man who worried about total strangers and even creatures more than himself? The one who wanted to make sure they didn't kill anything that didn't deserve to die? No, no, no, no nonononono!

"Don't look for me. Just forget about me… Stay safe. Don't let all this be in vain…"

Dean heard the door sound its usual tortured squeal as it was opened but it took his brain long tortured seconds before it could even make out what it was. It was only then that he realized Sam was no longer sitting across from him. A jolt of panic had him moving before he even realized it.

He half stumbled out of the car into the street, never even thinking of looking out for traffic before throwing open the door. "_Sam_!"

His panic rose and rose until finally staring both ways he spotted his brother about twenty feet down the road walking away from him. Every instance in his life that he'd lost his brother flashed before his eyes in a manic slideshow interspersed with every nightmare he'd ever had about losing him. Sam going off to college after his blowup with Dad. Sam cutting Dean off two years later because he couldn't handle the reminders of his past. Sam taken by the Woman in White. Sam kidnapped by the Benders, to be used in a sick game of sport. Sam leaving him when he decided forcing their Dad to take his help was more important than following his orders. Sam running on him when he first found out what their father had whispered in Dean's ear before his death too impatient to figure out what YED had in store for him and others like him. Sam disappearing without a trace for a week when Meg stole his body. Sam again disappearing when he was taken to YED's psychic kids final rounds. And the worst, when Sam was stabbed in the back by that coward Jake and he _died_.

Pain shot through him in bolts at each reminder. His hole of loss and despair opening wider and wider with every step Sam took away from him. Soon his brother would be lost beyond the gentle curve of the hill. He could step off the road and disappear into the trees and Dean would never ever find him ever again. "SAM!"

His brother just kept going, shoulders hunched, his hands shoved into his pockets as if cutting himself off from everything around him.

Sammy was not going to do this to him. Not again. He wouldn't let him!

Dean took off running. He moved to the grass, chancing its possible slipperiness versus the noise his boots would make on the pavement. He didn't want his brother to know he was coming.

Sam sensed something anyway and when Dean was within six feet his brother started to turn to glance over his shoulder. Dean dived at him only catching a flicker of his brother's tear and misery covered face before he rammed into him and brought him down hard.

They skidded over black top and grass and dipped half into a ditch before the line of trees. Dean half sat up, adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins, and grabbed Sam by his shirt and shook him hard. "You're not doing this to me again, _understand_?"

He brought Sam's wide eyed and tear streaked face up close and personal, yelling at him at the top of his lungs. "You selfish, clueless, bastard!" He wanted his brother to make no mistake about what he was feeling. "I don't care what you've done! I don't care what you think are. All I care about is having you with me!"

With water starting to muck up his own eyes, Dean pulled Sam up and forward and wrapped him up in his arms, digging his hands into his clothes like hooks, with the absolute intention of never letting go.

He'd battle Heaven and Hell if need be, but he would not be doing without his brother ever again!

"Dean…I…I can't…breathe…"

"Promise me you won't try something stupid like this again." He squeezed his brother harder the thought of releasing him making him feel queasy.

"This…isn't…funny…" Sam could barely gasp out the last. His hand smacked Dean in the back as an incentive to letting him go.

Not that it did him any good.

A deep childish part of Dean declared his brother deserved no better. "Promise me!" He squeezed him harder.

"You…suck…" He was definitely not sounding well now.

Dean wasn't going to show him any mercy. Not after what he just put him through. Even if the idiot thought it'd been for his benefit. "Say it!"

"I…promise…"

Relief at the words flooded Dean and soothed him like balm on a burn. He let off the pressure though he didn't actually let his brother go. Sam's relieved gulps of air sounded loud in his ears. Hot tracks were making roads down Dean's cheeks so he buried his face into Sam's shoulder for a moment trying to use his brother's shirt to wipe them away before the latter noticed.

A couple of seconds later, he released him, grabbed his brother by the arms and awkwardly pushed him back. "Stop that eye leaking thing in my body, dude. Makes me look all unmanly."

Sam gave him a half curled lip in response. "Make me."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

To keep from sobbing right then and there, Dean pulled Sam into another hug then quickly let him go and staggered to his feet, making sure to keep his face averted.

Pieces and parts of his body started to complain about the rough treatment of minutes before. He just told them to shut it. He didn't think he could take much more emotional crap today.

When Sam didn't get up as fast as he liked, Dean reached down and pulled him to his feet. Making sure to keep one hand clamped on his arm, just in case, the two of them half shuffled half stumbled back toward the car.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

When Dean rolled Baby into the waiting parking slot he was exhausted. Yet the thought of going up to be enclosed by the four walls of the motel room despite the fold out beds waiting inside, just didn't do anything for him. As slowly as his brother was to get out of the car, he had a feeling Sam was feeling something similar.

"Hey, I promised you a decent meal and haven't ponied up yet." Dean leaned over the roof of the car. "I think I saw a diner a few blocks back that didn't look too lame. You game?"

Sam hadn't said much on the rest of the ride back, but there'd not been that strained ugly silence of before. It'd felt more normal. Dean had questions he wanted to ask but also was deathly afraid of asking them. If Sam hadn't yanked him out from the pit, it was very likely it would have been him who succumbed to Alistair's incessant torture and opted for any means to escape it. Whatever Sam had done down there, he couldn't hold it against him. Dean had done as badly in the name of family and he'd not had someone shoving hot pokers in sensitive places as incentive. He was the last person who could judge his brother.

The listening thing Bobby said was so necessary was going to be harder than hard, though. But when his brother decided that he needed it, he'd be there for him.

Sam nodded. "Sure. Sounds good."

They clumped up the white wooden stairs to regular street level and started making their way down the street.

The diner was part of a brick building with lots of glass. A big white sign with red lettering proclaimed the place as Johny Mac's. It had a red door, with red wide stripes on the glass covered over with white blinds. Home style cooking seven days a week. He hoped they meant it, cause he wanted to celebrate having Sammy back with at least a grain of style.

Inside, the diner looked like a thousand other places they'd been in. Typical booths graced the right wall, the rest of the space filled with small square metal tables with white tops. Metal chairs with brownish red coverings finished off the ensemble. It always bothered him how so many of these places toted the fact they served home style cooking but never did much to make the place look like home. Not knowing a great deal about what real homes looked like, guess it shouldn't really make all that much difference to them. But still…

The usual unavoidable lunch counter with an open grill setup behind it took up the back. Dean grabbed a table near there, making sure to sit himself facing the door.

Place was almost empty, caught in the center of mid afternoon doldrums.

"Okay, dude, hope you're hungry, cause I'm expecting you to eat like crazy."

Sam took his seat a momentary smile flickering on his face, his gaze already moving to the board listing the day's specials.

"Hi! Welcome to Johny Mack's. Would you like to order?"

Dean glanced up at the waitress who sprouted up beside him out of nowhere. Green tank top and jeans, the typical off color apron with pockets, thirty something with brown hair, and not a bad looker. He could have done a lot worse and knew it. He just wished he actually felt like taking advantage of it. Oh well.

His cell phone chirped. "Give us a minute. Thanks."

He didn't watch her go instead digging out his cell. It was a text message from Bobby. Pamela was stable and out of ICU. He told Sam the news.

"And blind because of me. Plus we've still got no clue as to what we're dealing with." Sam stared at the table as if his unhappiness would burn a whole through it. His displeasure at the state of things radiated off him in droves.

It made Dean suddenly realize that despite everything, they weren't quite as in the dark as before. "That's not entirely true."

Sammy gave him a doubtful look. "No?"

"We got that name – Castiel or whatever." Dean leaned forward over the table. "With the right mumbo jumbo we can summon him and bring him right to us." And get some much needed answers and payback.

"You're crazy!" A flash of fear was quickly covered over by Sam's patented expression of disapproval. "Absolutely not."

"We'll work him over. I mean after what he did?" Didn't Sam think the guy deserved it? And it wasn't like Dean wanted to wait and find out what he wanted to use his brother for. This needed to be nipped in the bud – _now_.

Sam's stare burned into him. "Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull and you want a face to face?"

"You got a better idea?" As if.

Sam sat back in his chair and crossed his arms looking petulant. "No. But I still think yours sucks. I won't go along with it."

That was just great. But then Dean got another idea. "Hold on, I was following some demons into town, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So, we go find them and make them talk." Dean doubted that forcing them to sing would be a problem. He'd been practicing. "Someone's gotta know something about something."

The waitress chose that moment to show back up. "Ready to order now?"

She got a double Winchester glare. Her timing sucked.

"Sam?" Dean threw the question at his brother, trying to reel in his annoyance at the interruption. Wasn't like she'd really had anything to do with what was going on.

"Roast beef special. Corn and black-eyed peas, please. Glass of water."

Dean had no idea what he was hungry for, he just wanted her gone. "Same."

The woman wrote the order down then pulled up an empty chair and sat down expectantly. He couldn't help but throw a questioning look in his brother's direction to see if he had a clue as to what the heck was going on. From the blank puzzled look on his face, he could tell Sam had nothing.

Half amused and half irritated, Dean turned toward her not certain what this was about. Not your usual waitress behavior, that's for sure. He tried giving her a disarming, cocked smile, mentally tallying the weapons he had on him at the moment, just in case. He knew he was a catch, but he was wearing the wrong body and he'd not given out any signals he was interested or saw any from her either. Something was up. "You angling for a tip?"

She gave him an amused smile back. "I'm sorry, I thought you were looking for us."

Dean's heart gave a lurch as her eyes clouded over in black. All curiosity and amusement about the situation dried up and went. They'd picked the wrong day to just show themselves to him. He was so not in the mood for their kind right now. He watched her as she continued to look amused and glanced at his brother. It made his heart squeeze with fear. Yeah, he'd chased these bastards up from Tennessee but back then Sammy hadn't been in the picture. Now his brother was back and these bastards might try and take him back. Not going to happen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed a mechanic in a dark green suit and matching cap with the name badge of Roger as well as the fry cook behind him flashing their dark eyes to show who they were. The mechanic got off the stool and moseyed on over to the front door and locked it with a theatrical twist of his wrist. There were only five of them currently in the place, and three of them were possessed by demons. The only bright side was that whatever went down, he and Sam wouldn't have to worry about extra civilians getting in the line of fire.

Dean glanced at Sam and the latter gave him a small nod inching his hand toward the small of his back, letting Dean know he had the demon killing knife on him. That was definitely a point in their favor. Meant he wouldn't have to worry as much about Sam if things got ugly.

The waitress allowed her eyes to return to normal and stared at him with the soft smile still parked on her lips. "Sam and Dean Winchester…To Hell and back." She oozed with pleasantness. "Aren't you two a couple of lucky ducks."

Someone really needed to work on her witty dialogue. What was she, three? He gave her an unfelt half smile. "That's us."

"Making deals left and right. Visiting downstairs. One would almost think it was the new Winchester family vacation spot. And then, you get to just stroll out pretty as you please?" Her attention stayed on Sam.

Dean's heart lurched again but this time for different reasons. That was just an odd thing to hear from a demon. What came out of her mouth next was even more so.

"What makes you Winchesters so special?"

Dean's mouth couldn't let that pass. "I'd like to think it's because of our perky nipples. Family trait." That sounded like a fine damn reason to him too, if he said so himself. He stared at the waitress waiting to see her reaction.

She didn't give him one. She just waited patiently, staring at his brother as if having all the time in the world for a real response.

Dean snapped his fingers in front of her face, not liking the way she kept looking at Sam. "I'll be the one dealing with you, sister. Eyes over here."

The way she jerked to do as he said was odd. Almost as if she'd been afraid she'd made him mad. That couldn't be right, could it? Even now it seemed as if she was forcing herself to stare dead at him.

This was getting too weird. He and Sam were supposed to be out there getting answers not being the ones demons came to get them from. Time to change tactics. "I don't know. Wasn't our doing and I don't know who pulled him out."

"Right…you don't." Her lack of belief was way beyond obvious.

Coming from a demon, it irritated the crap out of him. "No. I don't."

"Lying's a sin you know."

This conversation was so bizarre on so many levels. Being called a liar by a master of lies was a new treat. And it also told him a few things. "I'm not lying."

Dean noticed the demon's attention flicker to his brother as if wanting to verify what he'd just told her somehow. Though he didn't take his own attentions off her for a second, he could feel the coiled hate radiating toward her from Sam. Demons had had way too much fun at his brother's expense already, he wanted him left out of this.

"But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, _Flo_." He was rather surprised and pleased that his innocuous old, used up waitress reference scored a hit. All traces of amusement were now gone from the demon's stolen face.

"Mind your tongue with me, boy. Or I'll drag your brother back to Hell myself."

"I hate to disagree with you, bitch. But there's no way you'll be doing that anytime soon." Dean narrowed his eyes momentarily to kick in his ability to see demon essences. No one would be messing with his brother. No one. "I won't let you."

He saw her eyes widen in surprise at his conviction loaded answer, even felt Sammy's own attention slipping to him just as caught off guard as everyone else.

"You see, Flo. I don't think you know shit." Dean stood up slowly glaring at her. The waitress leaned back into her seat her eyes growing even wider. "You're as spooked about this as we are and are desperately looking for answers."

He shifted his stance just enough to make sure to have the cook and mechanic within his peripheral vision. "You really picked the wrong day to mess with us. Cause I'm in a really bad mood."

"Dean…?"

He didn't have to glance over to know Sam was staring at him, a confused and possibly panicked look on his face. He didn't know what Dean knew, because, truth be known, he hadn't told him. Sam must be thinking he had a screw loose. But from the expressions on the others' faces, Sam was the only one in the dark. Guess word had gotten around a little after all. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn these yahoos thought he'd been the one to pull Sam out of the pit in the first place. After all, this body had been tampered with by one of their elite.

"And since you're totally ignorant about what went down, that means I don't have any use for you at all. So this is goodbye." Dean raised both of his arms at once, the mechanic and cook close enough together he was sure he could at least hold them. "Sam, gank her, gank her now!"

A headache started pounding as he poured his will forward, ringing inside him stronger than it had for weeks as his will was sent in two directions. The sound of crashing tables and chairs echoed beside and behind him but he couldn't look. He had to keep his entire attention focused on the two douche bags struggling before him. He had to believe in Sam, that the knife would be enough to level the playing field. But he didn't want to leave him on his own for too long just in case. Dean curled his fingers inward, pouring everything he had at the two struggling, jiggling figures on either side of the counter. The two demons were weak, just as he figured they might be. He watched with grim satisfaction as the black smoke was yanked in large chunks from the two men to pool on the floor as he stripped them from their stolen bodies. The acrid stench of sulfur filled the air.

Dean closed both his fists and willed for their stinking essences to go back to where they belonged. A metallic tang mixed in with the sulfur stench as something thick trickled from his nose. The pooled blackness flared with light, burned and turned to ash, leaving dark circles on the floor. Both bodies fell to the ground unconscious or dead.

He turned around ready to push power through his hand again, searching for Sam.

Dean found his brother on his knees beside the body of the waitress, the demon killing knife protruding from her chest. He looked ruffled but overall none the worse for wear. Except he was staring at Dean, his face blanched and an expression of horrified shock plastered all over it.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

"Sammy, you alright?" Dean wiped at the blood on his upper lip and rushed forward. He offered his other hand to his brother.

Sam batted it away. "No. I'm not! And neither are _you_." He stumbled to his feet making sure to stay out of reach. "What the hell did you just do?"

Dean shrugged. "What I had to, Sammy. Like I always do. No way was I letting them take you back to the pit."

His brother shook his head, his expression growing troubled. "But how? That's not…that's not normal!"

"Just using the weapons available to me." Dean shrugged again. "This time they just happen to be up here." He tapped the side of his head.

"No…" Sam stepped back half falling into a still standing chair. "How did you…?"

"That would be my fault." Ruby came out of the shadows from a recessed door in the back of the diner. She leaned against the entryway, arms crossed over her chest. "I suggest you pull the shades all the way down before someone out there notices what it looks like in here."

Hiding his surprise at her unexpected entrance, Dean moved to do as she suggested. Last thing they needed right now was for someone to call the cops. He wondered how long she'd known the demons were in here and why the heck she hadn't warned him.

Sam was back on his feet by the time he was done. He didn't look any happier than before. If anything, his frown was even more pronounced.

"Why don't the two of you go back to the motel. I'll clean things up here." Ruby was staring surreptitiously at his brother as she said this.

She might as well not have spoken for all the attention Sam paid to what she said.

"Dean…You…" He swept his hand up to move non-existent bangs, his Adam's apple bobbing. "This isn't right…" His shoulders pulled back as he straightened, his body tense, a determined look solidifying on his face. "You shouldn't be doing this."

Dean gave him a half embarrassed smirk. "Probably not. But it gets results. And it was the only thing left to try to get you back."

"You're such a hypocrite!" Sam grabbed one of the red leather and metal chairs and shoved it to skid across the floor before it crashed into one of the tipped over tables. He pointed an accusing finger in Ruby's direction. "Before you were taken _she_ said she could help me use my powers to save you and you, you _forbid_ me from doing it. Then we swap bodies and it's suddenly okay? What horseshit!"

He kicked at another chair sending it skittering across the room as well. "Why is my soul so much more worthy of saving or keeping clean than yours? It's not! Yet every damn thing you bar me from doing you end up doing for me instead. Why? It isn't right!" He crossed his arms for a moment then swept them out. "No. _No_! Enough is enough!"

"Sammy, calm down. I'm not stupid, okay? I know what I'm doing." Dean was trying to keep a lid on his tempter, but his brother was making it hard, very hard. Did he have no faith in him at all?

"Right…" The sarcasm literally dripped off him. "Just like you knew what you were doing when you made a deal to bring me back and short changed yourself by getting only one year to live and an eternity of endless torment?"

Dean's nails dug into his palm as he curled up his fist. "Like yours was any better."

"Enough!" Ruby stepped forward and in one inhumanly graceful movement bent down and yanked the knife out of the waitress's chest, spraying drops of blood on the ceiling from the force of it. "This isn't the time or place for this!"

Dean half turned, snarling, and it wasn't until it was over that he realized Sam did this with him in tandem. "Shut the hell up, Ruby!"

Her brows rising high, she grabbed Sam, and after slapping the knife into his hand she half threw him out the way she'd come in. She did this hard enough he had to tuck and roll or risk splattering onto the floor. Before Dean could say or do anything about it, she took him by the jacket and hurled him in that direction as well. With her demon strength, there was nothing he could do to stop her. He was lucky not to become a greasy spot on the wall.

"Take it outside, morons! I have work to do."

Dean wanted to kick her ass for this, but was also amused as hell. He'd not seen her with her panties this much in a wad in a while. He grabbed a half dazed Sam as he went past into the diner's storage area and dragged him out the back door into the alley. "Dude, did you see her face? Classic!"

The narrow alleyway extended in both directions, only half empty dumpsters and the permeating scent of rotting trash present to keep them company.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Sam pushed out hard with his arms, breaking Dean's hold. "There's nothing funny about any of this, Dean."

He glanced at his brother and saw he was fit to chew bullets. "What do you want from me, Sam? What's done is done. You're back now. Safe. And I plan to keep things that way by whatever means necessary."

"Not if it means turning yourself into some kind of demonic freak on my behalf you're not! One of us turning into a monster is more than enough." Sam's eyes and face were filled with both horror and pain.

"You're not a monster, Sammy."

His brother shoved him back hard, his face turning dark. "I know exactly what I am, Dean." He splayed his arms wide. "There's no going back for me on this. But you, you still have a chance! I won't let you just throw it away. _I won't_! Not on my account."

Dean raised up his hands. "Okay, okay, I get it. Just calm the hell down already!"

Sam's expression grew grim, the stare he sent his way determined. "You made me make you a promise today, so now I want one in return. I want you to promise me you're not going to follow this path anymore." He swept his hand in front of him. "That you'll stop using these weird demon powers."

Dean shook his head. "I can't do that."

"Why the hell not?" Sam looked furious, panicked, then back again.

His brother shouldn't be this worried about him. Shouldn't be asking him to do this. When would Sam get it into his head that he wasn't the one that mattered? Dean had a job to do and he would pay any price to get it done. "Because they work. Because there are demons after us. Because Lilith is still out there trying to do who knows what. Because there is this Castiel thing gunning for _your ass_."

"It's not worth it, Dean." Sam stared up at him, his need, his fear, his despair all laying wide open for him to see. "Please, don't use them."

He'd had about all of this he wanted to hear. Yet Dean couldn't just deny his brother either. The promise he'd squeezed out of him not that long ago had been made somewhat under duress and they both knew it. If he didn't at least try to meet him half way, Sam could change his mind about keeping it. Fine. "I can't promise not to use them."

"But, Dean –" Sam moved forward as if to grab him.

"Let me finish!"

His brother backed off, suddenly looking unsure.

"What I can promise is to try not to. To leave them as a means of last resort." He shrugged. "Best I can do. Take it or leave it."

Sam looked away, head hanging down, a long sigh echoing in the alley. After several long moments, he finally said, "I'll take it."

"Good! Now let's get back to the motel. Nothing seems to be going like I want it to, so let's order the fuck in."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Dean scrunched slowly into the hot water, his large frame displacing the liquid until it threatened to overflow over the sides of the old style white tub. Sam may have been only three inches taller than him, but it made a giant difference. Only real way to lie in here was to have his legs hang out the sides. Still, it was better than the microscopic shower. If he tried to use that, he'd probably put an eye out or dislocate something. Tubs had possibilities anyway. If he'd had a bottle of Mr. Bubbles, he would have been set.

When they got back to their room, he'd ordered a feast of Chinese food for the two of them. While he'd had no trouble eating his share, getting Sammy to consume his, despite the fact Dean had ordered all the stuff his brother liked, had been a couple of hours chore. His brother had just picked at the food, his face buried deep in the books they'd brought upstairs from the Impala's trunk, hoping to somehow stumble over something about this Castiel character.

The suggestion to catch some Z's had been ignored. But Dean had been putting an unwilling Sammy to bed for a long time. He knew his brother's buttons. Used to use this particular trick a lot on him in his pre and early teens, especially during that bad run of nightmares. All Dean had to do was yawn. There wasn't anything as contagious as a yawn. And his brother was easy -- especially when he wasn't really paying attention. Yawn five or six times in a fifteen minute interval when Sam was busy reading and he'd soon be out like a light.

It spoke of how tightly wound his brother was that the tried and true method took over an hour to finally put him over the edge. Sam had finally fallen asleep lightly propped with pillows on the fold out bed.

Dean had decided to take the opportunity to take a quick bath to help wake himself back up. Between the long ass emotional day and all the other crap they'd been through, he was beat. And at some point those yawns had become a little more than a plan to get Sam asleep. He had no intension of resting, though. His intent was to stay up and keep watch. Once Bobby rejoined them, they could take up the duty in shifts until they figured out what the heck they would be doing about this mess.

The rad red walls kept glaring at him, making the white tub, sink, and toilet seem like eyesores in contrast. Did kind of push you to hurry and get out of there. Like the way undersized accommodations weren't enough. Ratched up your tensions a notch or two. Not that he needed the help.

As if the trouble with what happened to Pamela and the mysterious Castiel weren't enough, now he had to figure out a way to tell Ruby they'd need to scale back their activities for a while if not forever. Not one to take bad news well, even at the best of times, he could imagine her massive tantrum already. And though he did like to have the option to use Sam's body's demon powers if needed, like his brother, he'd rather not risk his soul if he didn't have to.

Letting the now tepid water slug its way down the drain, Dean pulled out of the tub dripping all over the red floor. Took two towels to get him dry, his mop of hair retaining water like a sponge for some reason.

Getting redressed just took a minute. He wiped away at the condensation on the mirror above the sink trying to see if he needed to shave again or not.

He was rubbing his face with his hand, not really wanting to bother when a sudden high sound made him flinch. It was that whine in his ear he now sometimes got when someone turned on a TV nearby. Was Sammy awake?

He dismissed the idea of shaving and reached for the door. The knob turned in his hand but the door didn't budge when he pulled on it. WTF?

The sound on the other side of the door rose in pitch. He remembered Sam's description of the invisible thing that had attacked him at the gas station. Though muffled by the walls and door, the sound was irritating as heck and rising toward painful. And Sam was on the other side of the door, alone. The bloody thing had come back for him. "Sam!"

He grabbed the door knob, twisted, and pulled with all his might until the muscles showed like tight cords in his exposed forearms and neck. From the lack of movement or bulging by the door itself, it was as if he weren't even trying.

The sound rose to a high shriek and noise like explosions and bombs falling reverberated through to him from the other side. "_Sam_!"

Dean kicked at the door in rising desperation, then cursed himself for having left the Colt 1911 in the pocket of his jacket on one of the chairs. Cursing some more, he looked at what was in the bathroom and stared at his open shaving kit. He grabbed the large file for toenails and tried to jab it into the screw of the hinge at the top of the door. He had it half way out, his new bod's height actually good for something, when the earsplitting shrieking died away yet the sound of collapsing glass continued.

Taking a chance, his instincts telling him to go for it, Dean tried the door again. It swung wide without any resistance.

The sight that met his questing gaze was one of utter chaos. The window looking out upon the hotel's marquee had imploded inwards. Every last one of the mirrors in the ceiling had cracked and mostly rained down all over the room, the rest just waiting for their turn.

At the foot of the bed on the floor was Sam, curled up amidst the already fallen shards one of their loaded shotguns forgotten at his side. Fresh blood screamed for attention where it dripped past the hands Sam had over his ears.

Dean didn't think, he just moved. He rushed into the deadly rain of glass, grabbed his black leather jacket off the chair and threw it over Sam's huddled form even as he half scooped him up off the floor to his feet, cutting himself in the process. The room's door gave him no trouble as he turned the knob and opened it. He rushed the two of them out into the hallway.

Propping Sam against the wall a few doors down, he stopped to take a look at him. He moved the coat so it would rest on his brother's shoulders, so he could get a better look. "Sam, you okay?"

Aside from the blood on his hands and pooling in his ears, Dean didn't see anything except a bunch of small cuts, but he wanted to make sure.

"What?" Sam asked this way too loudly, scrunching his face as if he were struggling to hear him.

Dean glanced back toward their room's open doorway still hearing the sound of crashing glass. They were too damn exposed here. Time to go. He grabbed his brother by the elbow and pulled him on down the hallway. They made the turn to hurry toward the elevator only to almost run bodily into Bobby.

"Dean, Sam, what happened?"

"We need to get out of here, Bobby, now!"

The old hunter asked no more questions but grabbed Sam's free arm and rushed them to the elevator. On the way down, Dean tried to fill him in. "The damn thing tracked Sam down. Attacked him in the room after locking me in the bathroom. That is _fucking_ it! I want this sucker dead and now! I don't care what it takes."

Sam held a bloody hand up to cup his ear. "What?"

Dean gave him a dismissive gesture annoyed and worried at the same time. His brother just gave him a confused look straightening up as he was finally able to stay on his feet on his own.

Rushing through the lobby to the outside, all three piled into Bobby's SS, Dean figuring they could come back for their stuff later. Right now he just wanted them away from there. Sam was in the passenger seat in front, Dean taking the back but scooting forward until he was partially hanging over the front seat. Bobby drove the car out of the parking lot in a hurry.

The old hunter pulled out a red handkerchief and handed it over to Sam. "How you doing, kid?"

Sam actually seemed to catch what had been said this time. "Head's really ringing."

"What happened in there?" Dean touched him on the shoulder as Sam wiped at the blood in his ears so he would know he was talking to him.

"I never saw it. But it was the same as at the gas station." He shook his head. "More intense this time."

Dean stared at Sam's scraped up knuckles, at his torn nails, the blood on his hands and ears and a slow burn of fury took root deep inside him. His brother hadn't even been back but two days and already he'd had to endure more than most people. It was going to stop.

"Bobby, find us a place. I wanna summon up this thing and kill it."

The old hunter stared back at him in shock through the rearview mirror. "You can't be serious."

Dean stared back. "As a heart attack."

"Dean, no, that's crazy!" Sam turned in the seat so he could look over at him. "We've no idea what we're dealing with here."

Bobby's grip on the steering wheel grew tighter. "We don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything."

"That's why we've got to be ready _for_ anything." He put every ounce of conviction he could into that statement. "We've got the big time army knife. You've got an arsenal in the trunk. We've got me, if it comes to that."

"Dean, no!" Sam grabbed at his arm as if he were about to physically haul Dean over the seat into the front and shake him.

"Sorry, Sammy, but it's better than just waiting blindly for this thing to come at us again. Maybe do to you or me or Bobby the same thing as Pamela." He made sure to lock his gaze with Sam's. "This thing is tracking you somehow. It's not going to leave you alone. So instead of waiting for it to bring the fight to us and catch us with our pants down again, we're going force it to face us on our terms instead. In a place of our own choosing. This bastard is going down."


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

They worked on the empty storage barn Bobby found for almost two hours trying to prep the place. The barn was a spits throw from a two lane blacktop not far out of town. If things went bad, the hope was to minimize collateral damage. Aside from a thin crescent moon and stars, there was no one to watch what they were about. With three foot tall stone walls, wood and a partially corrugated metal roof, it should keep the nasties out and if it came to it, in as well. Bobby and Sam spray painted the walls, ceilings, and floor, while Dean prepped their weapons on two tables at the back.

Sam had tried again once or twice to talk them out of this, but there'd not been much force behind the attempts. Dean knew his brother had come to realize they didn't have much choice, no matter how much he didn't like it.

He glanced over at the white symbols scrawled on the floor and the ones in black everywhere else. Something here had to affect the damn thing. Something _had_ to. He'd wedged a long wooden bar to keep the double barn doors closed. No way was he going to make it easy for this thing.

"Hell of an art project you two got going on," Dean said, laying out the last of the weapons. "I don't think I've ever seen half of these."

Bobby shrugged. "Got some talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doing?"

Dean watched Sam finish one last symbol on the floor and cap his spray can as he answered Bobby's question. "Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife, jugs of holy water. We're pretty much set to catch everything I've ever heard of."

"It's still a bad idea."

"Yeah, Bobby. I heard you and Sam the first ten times." He put the demon killing knife within easy reach. "What say we ring the dinner bell and get this over with?"

He didn't miss the unhappy look Bobby threw him, but whether it was about his attitude or what they were about to do, Dean couldn't tell. Sam didn't look any more pleased. Bunch of sourpusses those two.

Sammy joined them at the back as Bobby moved to stand before a silver bowl filled with a yellowish powder. Taking a small wooden bowl full of crunched up leaves, Bobby took a pinch of the stuff and dribbled it over the bigger bowl. The yellow powder began to smoke. Bobby started the incantation. "Mateus spiritus obscure…"

About five minutes later, the deal was done. Nothing changed however. Dean watched Sam shifting nervously where he leaned against the second table, obviously at odds on whether he thought this was a good sign or not.

Bored, tired, and sore, Dean hitched onto one of the tables as a seat. As the minutes continued to tick by, he finally couldn't stand it anymore. "You sure you did the ritual right, Bobby?"

Dean saw Sam roll his eyes at him even as Bobby gave him a disgusted look.

"_Sorry_. Touchy touchy, huh?"

The corrugated metal on the top of the roof suddenly started clanging in its moorings. They rattled up and down as if in the midst of an apoplectic fit.

Dean jumped to the floor. "Wishful thinking… But maybe it's just the wind."

The expressions on their faces told him neither Bobby nor his brother thought so either.

The bulbs hanging above them suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks. All three of them backed up, ducking for cover. The front doors opened inwards in one fluid arc, the holding bar splitting in two as if it were a mere twig. With electric sparks falling all around like 4th of July sparklers from Hell, a lone figure strode forward into the barn from outside.

Dean stared at it through the mess coming from above. It was a man in a long tan trench coat, dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark blue tie. He looked like a shorter version of Keanu Reeves as Constantine or something. And he strode into the midst of the falling sparks still coming from the light fixtures as if they weren't even there.

The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder as far back as the room allowed and brought up their shotguns. As the guy advanced, each of them let off a volley. The rounds hit the intruder dead in the chest, but aside from poking holes in the trench coat, seemed to have no effect on the stranger whatsoever. His stride never slowed as he strolled forward, an almost amused expression on his face.

They all shot at him again, but it made no difference. They all traded glances. Time to change to something else. Dean saw Sam grab the demon killing knife and hide it behind him. Bobby was closest to a bar of iron, so Dean smoothly reached for the tar covered wood spike hidden from view by Sam's body on the table to his right.

The stranger stopped before them, slightly turning to face more in Sam's and Dean's direction than Bobby's.

"Odd. You're Dean Winchester…" The tone was mild as if he were talking to someone on the bus, rather than people who'd just shot his coat full of holes.

It gave Dean the willies. "Yeah, and?"

"You were the one who was supposed to be in the pit." The dark brows furrowed, almost looking like it was something he'd never done before. His troubled gaze moved to Sam. "Yet, you're the one I pulled out."

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

Dean almost reached out and smacked him, not wanting his brother to call any more attention to himself than necessary.

A steady blue eyed gaze locked with his brother's. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah? Thanks for that," Dean said as he lunged forward and stabbed the guy with a swing upwards with the stake. Sam went for him at the same time and plunged the demon killing knife straight into the man's heart.

Both of them jumped back not knowing what to expect. To Dean's shock, the guy continued to stare at them as if nothing had happened, that tinge of amusement still on his face. Using both hands, he gripped the stake and the knife and pulled them out without a flinch. He opened his hands and let both fall forgotten onto the concrete floor.

Bobby dove forward to whack him with the iron from his blind side. Without ever turning his head, the stranger caught the incoming bar and stopped it dead. Then he turned his attention to Bobby, and reaching out, touched the shocked hunter on the forehead with two fingers. Bobby eyes rolled up into his head and he dropped like a rock to the floor.

"What did you _do_?" Dean shifted, keeping himself between the thing and Sam as the latter quickly knelt down to check on their friend.

"Your friend is alive. He'll just sleep for a while. Perhaps you should as well." He started to reach out for him.

Dean backpedaled in a hurry, grabbing Sam by the neck of the shirt and yanking him back with him. He wasn't letting his brother anywhere near that thing and definitely not to be with it alone. Dean narrowed his eyes calling up his demon power to see what he might see of this guy. He could see an essence mixed in with the human's, but it wasn't the oily black he'd seen so many times before. This one was almost the total opposite – brilliant, contained light. Though as far as he could tell, it seemed to blend with the host in almost exactly the same way. "You keep your weird ass mitts off me. And if you have something to say to my brother, you can say it to me!"

The stranger stopped, watching them curiously. The troubled look from before deepened a little. "It took a long time to get to you. Obviously something happened while they kept us at bay." His face cleared. His gaze locked with Sam's. "No matter, you are now the one."

Dean had no idea what he was talking about and didn't much like it. From the confused look on Sam's face, he didn't either. "Who are you?"

"Castiel."

"Yeah, we figured that much." It was hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I mean _what_ are you?"

The stranger looked over at him. "I'm an angel of the Lord."

Dean heard Sam gasp, but kept his attention on Castiel. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

"Your brother believes." A soft smile graced the supposed angel's face for a moment as he slipped a glance back toward Sam. "You, however, have no faith. But that will change." Flashes of lightning blasted impossibly inside the barn, accompanied by clashing thunder. Behind the stranger, against the wall, the flashes showed the shadow of what appeared to be a spreading set of wings behind Castiel's back.

Parlor tricks and bullshit. "Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

"Dean!" Sam grabbed his arm, warning him to still his sharp tongue, but he wasn't having any of it. She shrugged off Sammy's hold. This had to be some sort of trick.

Castiel at least had the grace to look contrite. Not that Dean believed it for a moment. "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be overwhelming to humans. So can my real voice. Your brother already knows that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel? That was you talking?"

The stranger nodded.

"Buddy, next time lower the volume." Dean could have belted him right then and there. He'd seen the devastation that could be caused by his so called 'voice'. He'd almost ruptured his brother's ears, the bastard.

"That was my mistake." He looked at Sam. "Certain people, special people, can see my true visage. I thought you were one of them. I was wrong."

Dean felt Sam flinch beside him. He could almost guess at what was running through his brother's mind, devaluing himself at not being this asshole's kind of 'special'. What crap! "And what visage are you in now, huh?"

"This, this is a vessel." Castiel looked down at himself.

"You're, you're possessing someone?" The shocked question came from Sam.

"He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this." He made it sound as if he'd bestowed the poor schmuck some great honor. More crap!

Dean had had more than enough of this shit. "Well, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"

"Dean, don't!" Again his brother grabbed him as if to hold him back. Dean shirked him off again. What the hell was the matter with him? Surely he wasn't falling for this bullshit.

Castiel appeared confused by the question. "I told you."

"Right. And why would an angel rescue my brother from Hell?" Nothing without an agenda would have done it. It's not as if Dean had prayed for it to happen. The concept had never even occurred to him.

The possessed man glanced at him looking almost shocked. "Good things do happen, Dean."

"Not in my experience." Not without strings. Not without some gain being involved for them. Sam was the optimist around here. He was a realist. "Why'd you do it? What's in it for you?"

"Because God commanded it." Castiel looked at his brother again. "Because we have work for him."

Dean traded glances with Sam. His brother appeared both terrified and elated at the prospect all at once. As if this meant he'd be given a chance at possible redemption. As if this was somehow a good thing. Only one thought though kept running through Dean's mind over and over and over again…

Shit. Here we go again.

The End

As always many thanks to Kaz for her eagle eyes and angst-o-meter ratings.

Also thanks to Shaken-Silence for pointing out my faulty math. Though I'm in accounting, seems that simple math is beyond me for some reason. Do not know how the heck I botched this up. So, if you started this fic when I first posted chapter 1, the booboo has now been corrected. Faulty chapters now corrected were 1, 4, 5, and 6.

Finally, thanks to you guys for taking the time to read my ravings. Appreciate it!

And if you've not read me before and enjoyed my style, you can find a list of my other SPN fics at .net/u/885436/Maya_Perez

Thanks again! Hope you enjoyed the ride!!!!


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